Twist of Fate
by nine miles to go
Summary: 14 year old Chris has no memory of ever being a Halliwell. Orphaned and taken in by the Alliance, ten years after being seperated by his family, he'll be sent on a mission that will change him forever...but for better or for worse?
1. Chapter One

Twist of Fate

By Pink-Charmed-One

Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. Life is cruel. How is it that I can own a toothbrush, but I can't own Charmed? Hey, speaking of unfair things--WHERE WAS DREW ON LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE, HMMMM? Older Wyatt, younger Wyatt, younger Chris, older--oh, wait, noooo--They FORGOT DREW! Humph. And does anyone else feel like baby Chris, like, doesn't exist anymore? Honestly! He might as well be dead, the way they're ignoring him on the show! (grumble, grumble...)

* * *

Chapter One:

Year 2008

The streets of San Francisco were filled with screams—of anguish, of hate, and mostly of fear. People fearing the unknown: magic. A group had declared themselves the witch hunters, and they were scouring the city and not leaving one suspected witch alive.

The witch hunters, ranging from every age, gender and ethnicity, rampaged, tearing entire buildings apart as they murdered. In their hands were flaming torches, knives and guns. Everyone and anyone that looked suspicious were killed on the spot. There was virtually no safe place within miles; the fear was spreading, infecting people like a virus, causing the once good man to perform the unforgivable act of killing another being.

And in the midst of this all were the three Charmed Ones, uncertain and panicking. They knew they had to stop this, but they had no power against it. If they did choose to intervene, they would be revealed and killed on the spot, which wouldn't get them anywhere. The alternative was watching innocent people die. What could they do?

Piper's hands were clutched by her two boys, Wyatt and Chris, at this point ages four and six. In Phoebe's arms was Mel, her three-year-old daughter; Paige herself was pregnant. The sisters were in no position to make risks.

"We've got to get out of here," Phoebe urged, though she was rooted to the spot in the middle of the street, surrounded by the chaos. Nobody moved. Mel whimpered and buried her face into Phoebe's shoulder, alarmed by all the commotion and the mobs.

"What can we do?" Paige cried. "We can't leave these people out here!"

A window shattered behind them and shards of glass sprayed all around. Chris screamed, receiving most of the blow, but went unnoticed as the sisters contemplated their next move.

"I don't think there's another option," Piper admitted, tears springing into her eyes. "We'll be caught. You know that as well as I do. These people won't let anyone go—we're outnumbered by thousands, Paige. Maybe hundreds of thousands of people, and they all want us to die."

"Mommy," Chris said feebly, now ignoring his numerous scrapes.

"Hush," Piper scolded.

"But mommy—"

"Chris, I said to—" Before she could utter another word, a man had launched himself on top of her and thrown her onto the gravel street.

"Witches! All of you, witches! You use magic, you devil-worshippers!"

"Get off of me, you oaf!" Piper shrieked, struggling under the man's surprising strong frame. Paige and Phoebe were immediately trying to free their sister when they were seized just as quickly. Mel was left beside Wyatt and Chris as the scene unfolded before them.

"Wyatt, do something!" Chris screamed. "Wyatt—"

"What can I do?" Wyatt yelled back. "I can't do anything!"

"You're the powerful one!" Chris wailed. "Daddy and mommy always said you were better! Make them go away, Wyatt!"

Wyatt plugged his ears, blocking Chris out and sobbing in frustration himself. Chris didn't know what to do—all his life, his parents had been sure to let him know that he would never be as powerful as Wyatt. If Wyatt couldn't save them, who could?

His glance fleeted over to little Mel. She'd never be able to defend herself if they took her away. Somehow—someway, he had to—

His energy began to focus and gather inside of him. His radiant green eyes suddenly iced over, staring directly at the Charmed One's attackers. There was so much fury, so much confusion and panic inside of him, that it all went into his one task: getting the sisters, Wyatt and Mel out of there.

In an instant, they were engulfed by orbs and carried Up There.

Unfortunately, Chris' newfound power was not enough to carry him Up There with them.

The men rounded on him next. Their leader, the original attacker, opened his mouth to accuse Chris of the inevitable. Chris knew he was doomed the instant that man laid eyes on him. They wouldn't show anyone, not even a four-year-old boy, any mercy. He would not be an exception to their ruthlessness.

And perhaps then, it was the explosion that suddenly erupted beside him that saved his life. Bricks from the building catapulted in their direction and flames leapt from the destruction. Chris was hit, knocked unconscious in an instant, and fell to the ground with a thud.

For the rest of the battle, people stepped over him, assuming him dead. It wasn't until three days later that he woke, groggy and in pain, without any memory of his previous life. Members from the newly found Alliance took him in, and from that day on, he was nothing more than Chris, the orphan boy with minimal witch powers.

It wasn't till ten years later that things finally began to change.

* * *

Year 2018

"Chris," Owen called from across one of the vast, twisting halls of the underground Alliance headquarters. "Pete said he wanted to see you for something. An assignment."

Chris looked up in surprise at his good friend, only about two years older than himself. "Really? Um, okay." He turned in direction and headed towards Pete's office instead of going down to the Mess Hall. "Did he say anything about what it was?"

"No, but I think it's important." Owen grinned. "Good luck, Chris," he said, patting Chris on the back as he passed. "Your first big one. Wow, do you guys grow up fast." He mocked fake-tears and kept walking. "See ya later."

"Yeah, see ya." Chris was a little excited by the idea of a mission, but he knew it wouldn't be too important or intense. He only had one power, and that was telekinesis. Besides, he couldn't even control it very well. The Alliance took him in because he was a witch and had nowhere else to go—at least that's how he felt about it. He had no family that he knew of, no real identity. He wasn't even sure if Chris was his real name. An assignment for him didn't exactly sound like the biggest thrill in the world, considering it would probably be someone else's super-easy dirty work.

But maybe today things would change.

He stepped tentatively inside Pete's office and sat down on one of the rusty chairs in front of his desk. "You wanted to see me?" he asked.

Pete lifted his head from yesterday's newspaper that he'd been scowling at and realized Chris had entered. "Oh, yes. Sorry. I get a little absorbed sometimes, as you know." The older man shook his head. "Another witch killed on a mission yesterday. One of our stronger ones, too. Not in our quadrant, though," Pete was quick to assure Chris. "Nobody we'd know. But nonetheless, it affects us."

"How so?" Chris asked. He almost didn't want to know, because he had a queasy feeling it had something to do with him.

"This time, we didn't lose a witch to a witch-hunter—one of our own was the murderer of Cassandra Welling of the fourth quadrant downtown."

"What do you mean, one of our own?"

Pete sighed, putting his head in his hands. "Chris, there is more out there than just the Alliance. Some witches chose to risk it and live out on their own. The wounds that ended Cassandra weren't demonic and definitely weren't caused by any mortal man—they were very distinctive, actually, to the only boy who could have caused them."

"Why would a witch kill another witch?" Chris burst. "That's insane! We're already losing witches to the cause everyday—"

"That, Chris, is where I was hoping you could come in." Pete's eyes flickered in Chris' direction. "The boy in question is half witch, half whitelighter. That's how we know that it is only possible that he was the one that murdered Cassandra. What we need to know is why—what his purpose was, if he intends to do more evil than good, and if he is a potential threat to our safety. He's sixteen years old, by the name of Wyatt Halliwell."

Chris winced.

"What?" asked Pete, concerned. "Look, Chris, you don't have to do this. It was just a thought—"

"No, no," Chris said hurriedly. "It's just…that name. I don't know where I've heard it before."

"He has pretty famous parents. An elder and a Charmed One. That's some real power he's got there."

_That's some real power he's got there, my little buddy Wyatt._

Chris shook off the weird voice in his head. "What can I do, though? I can barely manage my telekinesis."

"This isn't a question of power, Chris. This is a question of intelligence. That's why I think you're the best for the job."

"What job? How could I do anything?"

"Think about this for a moment, Chris. Wyatt's sixteen years old, two years older than you are. What I want you to do is try to connect with him. Befriend him, ask him to train you, even stalk him like you're some kind of a sick admirer—find some way to make him include you in his life. Then learn his motives as you gain his trust." Pete's eyes locked with Chris' solemnly. "I've known you for the whole duration of what you can remember of your life, Chris. I know you're capable of performing this task, and frankly, you're the only one I trust with it. Are you willing to accept?"

"Yes, but…"

"But what?"

"What do you have in the way of information?" Chris asked curiously. "I mean, who is his family? What school does he go to? Any personality traits that are prominent?"

"He has two aunts, Phoebe and Paige, Charmed Ones. His father, Leo, is the elder, and his mother, Piper, is a Charmed One. Phoebe has a daughter named Mel, thirteen years, and a husband named Cole. Paige has a son named Jake, widowed to Jake Mecca as of five years ago when the witch-hunters caught him and killed him.

He attends San Francisco High and seems to be pretty well known there, as far as we can see. He's on the football team, aggressive, and has sort of a quick temper. We don't have knowledge of all of his powers yet, however. We're depending on you to figure that out."

"I'll do it," Chris accepted. "Where could I find them?"

"The Manor, on the Nexus—you know where that is. Or the high school. Maybe even P3—Piper owns that club. It should be pretty easy trying to meet them. It's the befriending and earning trust that looks the most difficult."

Chris sat silently for a moment. "When can I leave?"

Pete smiled. He could always depend on Chris. "Whenever you want—just be sure to check in with us at least every three days, and make sure nobody follows you underground."

"Got it." Chris stood. "I'll be seeing you then, Pete."

"Good luck, Chris, and be careful."

"I will," Chris promised. He already had an idea in mind of how he was going to connect with these Halliwells, though, so there was no time to waste. He quickly exited the room and headed out to the Underground.

Now to find P3. That was where his journey would begin.

* * *

Shall I continue? Let me know lol. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: If I owned Charmed, what the heck would I be doing on this site? You guys wouldn't only be burdened by my weird stories--THEY'D BE INFLICTED ON THE WHOLE FREAKING WORLD! YIPEE! Lol. If only, if only.

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Chapter Two

It didn't take as long as he thought it might to find the P3. The underground of the Alliance headquarters opened up to the outside world through a hidden vortex in the brick wall of one of the bigger buildings in San Francisco. He walked tentatively out of the alley—it was daylight for once. He'd only been out in the daylight once before. Normally he went out at night to do minimal, easy tasks, like finding spare food or stocking up on supplies or sending messages from one quadrant of the Alliance to another.

And another thing that struck him: it was _warm_.

The sun seemed to beat on his back mercilessly. From the alley, he saw people walking around, chatting on cell phones as if the heat were nothing. Chris was so accustomed to the chill of living underground that this intensity was baffling. Immediately he shed his sweater and was grateful he happened to be wearing a pair of Owen's old shorts when he left—otherwise he would've looked terribly out of place.

In an instant he was sweating. Once out of the alley, he could feel himself tense. Would anyone notice how different he looked compared to them? That he was unnaturally pale compared to them, sweating, and wearing ratty clothes? Could they tell he wasn't street smart like the rest of them?

After a few minutes of aimless walking and crossing several streets with crowds of pedestrians, he relaxed. There was nobody staring at him to the best of his knowledge. Now what?

A woman was walking idly down the block, stopping every now and then to stare at a store window. She didn't look too rushed. He approached her with caution, trying to disguise his voice to hide his irrational fear of this outside world.

"Excuse me?"

The woman looked over at him. "My goodness, you look like a ghost," she chuckled. "Inside playing video games like my boys, I presume?"

"Um…yeah." In truth, Chris had never even played a video game before, but that wasn't the issue at hand. "I was wondering if you might be able to tell me where the club P3 is?"

The woman frowned at him. "Isn't that a club for adults? You could hardly be over thirteen."

Chris was, in fact, fourteen, but he held his tongue. "Well, my friend Wyatt's mother owns the club, and he said he'd meet me there. I took the bus and I realized he must have given me some wacked-out directions."

Her frown dissolved. "Oh, don't worry, dear, you're not too far off. It's about two blocks ahead—then you turn right and go another three blocks or so. Be safe now, young man," she warned before heading on her way.

Chris' heart was literally beating in his chest like a drum by the time she turned her back. He'd completed his first official conversation with a mortal—a non-witch—and he'd lived. He smiled to himself, feeling a sense of accomplishment for fooling her. She had no idea what he really was or what he was really doing. The sense of adventure returned to him, and he continued on his way through the city blocks.

Night came faster than he thought it would, which was a relief. Five minutes later he'd made it to the P3 and it was nearing dark, lessening the heat. A small crowd was forming outside of the club, waiting for the opening time at six o'clock.

Hurriedly, he ran into the alley parallel to the P3. He knew by scouring the streets at night that there were always back entrances through the alleys. There was a door, right there waiting for him, too—

He was about to reach out for the knob when he stopped himself. Halted in his own stupidity, he almost slapped himself in the head. What was he going to do, storm in there and introduce himself? No, he had to be smarter than that. Pete had trusted him. He had to live up to that trust.

So…what could he do? Pretend to be delusional or sick or something? Maybe he could pretend that he was being chased by a demon and storm in, begging for help. Yes, that seemed smart. They were the Charmed Ones, after all. Surely people came to them for help like that all the time.

He turned the lock, fully prepared to run in while all-out panicking, when he realized the door was locked. Duh! It was San Francisco, of course the stupid door to an alley entrance would be locked. What kind of fantasy land was he living in?

Dejectedly, he sat down, leaning against the dumpster. Might as well stay here for the night. In the morning—that's when he'd act. He had time, didn't he? Besides, he wasn't all that great an actor anyways. The demon thing might not have even worked.

He sat there for maybe two hours or so, thinking about possible ideas. He couldn't go to school and find Wyatt there. He had no ID, no birth certificate and no parents. In fact, if an officer found him in this alley…he shook off the thought. No one would find him here.

Besides, he was pretty certain that school was out for the summer already. It was stifling hot and the woman had mentioned video games. Did kids only play those when there wasn't school? Man, this world was different compared to the Underground.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't even hear the door open. When he realized a woman was stepping out, he did the first thing his instincts said to do—closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Confrontation would be so much easier that way. Maybe she'd just not see him, or ignore him, or—

No such luck.

"What the—?" she stuttered. "Hey, kid…kid, wake up." She shook his shoulder and he opened his eyes.

The instant he looked into her brown eyes he felt as if he was being sucked into a vortex. The world around him spun and blurred until…

"_Wake up, Chris. Your mommy made breakfast downstairs, pancakes." _

And just like that the vision, no more than a streak of different colors, was gone.

"Are you okay? Look, I can get you some help—"

"No!" Chris alerted himself back to the present, shaking his head. "Sorry. I just spaced out, that's all." He could feel himself flushing. What was that? He had no memory of anything like that happening before. Could it be that he was actually recalling something from before the Alliance, before when he had an identity?

"You don't look very well," the woman said hesitantly. He straightened himself and stood up, brushing the dirt off of himself. Yes, she certainly seemed familiar…but then again, he couldn't know for sure. Who was she, anyways?

"I'm fine—I'm sorry—"

"Are you out here by yourself?" Her brown eyes flickered in concern. She looked about in her thirties or so, with shoulder length brown hair that had a few loose curls.

"Um, no. Well, yes, but—but—" Think, think, think! Quit stuttering! He commanded himself. "I'm looking for a Piper Halliwell," he finally burst as a last resort.

The woman looked surprised. "Sure…I'm her sister, Phoebe Halliwell." She held out her hand and he shook it. "Why do you need her?"

"Um, a demon's after me. I heard that I could find her here."

"Yeah, you've come to the right place, kid," she acknowledged, looking at him with a new pity. "What's your name?"

"Chris," he said without thinking. It didn't occur to him until after he'd said it that he might want to lie about his name. Stupid action number five million. She led him into the club.

Immediately he was overwhelmed by its atmosphere—the lights, the pounding music, the pulse of all the bodies jam-packed into one room. He could feel himself paling. Never before had he seen so many people in one spot before! How many mortals in the world WERE there?

"Are you okay?" she asked again. "You're awfully pale looking."

"It's genetic," he lied, forcing a small smile.

"Really?" she said offhandedly, meandering her way through the crowd. She finally came to an office and knocked on the door.

"Piper? Hey, Piper, are you in there?"

The door opened. "Hey, Phoebe. What's up?" She saw Chris and cocked an eyebrow. "Um, Phoebe, he looks a bit…underage. How old are you, twelve?"

He stared at her, barely able to keep from opening his mouth. This woman, she…she seemed—something just went "snap!" inside of him at that moment. But there were no creepy visions this time, and for that he was glad. He managed to regain his composure in time to say, "No, fourteen."

"What are you…?"

"He has a demon-stration issue, Piper," Phoebe explained.

Piper nodded, trying to hide her exasperation. "Come on in, then." She shut the door behind him. "What's your name?"

Oh, no. The room was spinning again. No, no, no—

"_We need to find a name for him, Leo. It's been two days. We can't have a nameless baby." _

"_He reminds me so much of my father, just looking at him. Chris. Chris Perry Halliwell?" _

"_Sounds perfect." _

"He said his name was Chris…Chris, are you in there?"

The blur cleared again. He was still standing in the room, steady on his feet, as he had been two seconds before. Then how was it that he was in a hospital, seeing two parents and a little baby? How could he be in two places at once?

"Here, why don't you sit down?" Piper motioned towards the couch. "I'm sure it's been rough with a demon and everything. Where are your parents?"

"I don't have any," he said quickly.

Piper's eyes widened. "Oh…I'm—sorry," she stuttered in surprise.

"That's horrible," said Phoebe.

"It's okay, I don't remember them." He shifted uncomfortably.

"You just had a vision, didn't you?" Phoebe asked. "I know that look. Is it a new power?"

"A vision?" Chris wasn't quite prepared for that possibility. "Like seeing the future or something? But I can only do telekinesis."

"Our sister had that power—Prue. But visions allow you to see in the past and present, too. I think you must have more than one power."

Chris considered this. All his life, he'd been barely about to control telekinesis. How could it be that he had two powers if he could barely manage one?

"Where are you staying?" Piper's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Uh…" He fidgeted. "Around."

"That's not safe!" Phoebe frowned. "Stay with us until we get this whole demon-thing sorted out, and then Paige, my sister, can find you a decent home—"

"No, no, no—that's okay. I'm fine. I just need the demon to—" She put her hand on his shoulder and he recoiled on instinct. There was no way he could let them send him to some foster home! No way in hell! He had to report to headquarters in three days, anyways, and there WAS no demon. "Look, I don't need any other help besides that, okay?" he tried to reason.

Piper and Phoebe exchanged glances.

"Let's just cross this bridge when we come to it," Piper relented.

Chris relaxed a bit. "Thank you."

"So, what kind of a demon are we looking for?"

"Well, he…er, he shoots balls of, uh, power." Chris cleared his throat to give himself some thinking time. "He keeps talking about stealing power from me. He can shimmer, too, and he only appears at night." Chris only hoped his description of the nonexistent demon would be enough to buy him enough time at their house while they searched in vain. He had to befriend this Wyatt. He _had_ to. The Alliance was depending on him.

He didn't have to wait long to meet Wyatt, however. The door burst open and in came Wyatt Halliwell himself.

* * *

Thanks, everyone, for the beyond fabulous reviews! I feel so LOVED! Lol. I'll update as soon as possible, most likely by Friday. I have a HUUUUUUUGE project due. (kill me, please!)


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: If I could take over the world, I would own Charmed and Drew Fuller (and an unlimited supply of chocolate), but alas, this ceases to occur...so I don't own anything but this plot. So sorry. Lol.

* * *

Chapter Three

"Hey, Mom, could I--?" Wyatt fell short in his sentence upon seeing Chris.

Their eyes locked. Emotions radiated between the two of them—nothing like it had been with the other two women. He had braced himself for a creepy vision, a startling insight, but what he felt was cold and empty. What he felt was completely blank. Why was Wyatt looking at him like that? The boy was taller than Chris, more muscular with pale blue eyes. Where had he seen those eyes before? Why did they look so accusing?

Wyatt's gaze was almost looking at him as if he were somebody to blame, or somebody to fear.

"Who's this?" Wyatt asked, tearing his eyes from Chris. His voice was even and steady, not like Chris expected after those waves that had gone on between them. Maybe Wyatt just didn't notice? No, he had to have noticed. Where would those feelings come from otherwise?

"This is Chris," Phoebe explained. "There's a demon after him."

Wyatt put on what seemed to Chris a phony smile. Behind Wyatt's face, he could easily see the irritation. In fact, it was almost as if Wyatt wanted him to see that he was annoyed with the situation. His face clearly read "you've-inconvenienced-me."

"Demons certainly are pesky." He paused. "Do you go to San Francisco High? You look familiar."

Chris shook his head. Then he realized that shaking his head to that was not going to strike up any kind of conversation or friendship, so he forced himself to say, "I've heard of it, though. They have good sports teams, don't they?" Chris wanted to bite his tongue the second he said that. Bad idea! What if they sucked? What if they didn't play sports? What if—?

But Wyatt straightened himself proudly. "You're talking to the quarterback of their football team, actually," he bragged.

Relieved by Wyatt's reaction, he said, "Wow, you must be pretty good—I heard there's a lot of competition there." He was starting to get an idea of how to make nice with Wyatt. Compliment him, listen to him brag, etc, etc. This might be easier than he thought it would be if it kept rolling like this.

"What did you need, honey?" asked Piper.

"I was just wondering if some of my friends and I could go over to his house for a little while. Just a couple of football kids, you know? I'd be back by ten thirty."

"Okay," Piper said hesitantly. "Take your cell."

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Like I need a cell phone. I could just orb—"

Piper raised her eyebrows towards the other side of the door, indicating that there were clubbers that could be listening.

"You know what I mean," said Wyatt. "Anyways, I'll see you later, then."

"_Piper, did you realize how far Wyatt just orbed? That was amazing, son! Three thousand miles!" _

"_Oh, Wyatt! We're so proud of you!" _

"_Mommy, I made this in school—"_

"_Did you see what your brother just did? My goodness, Wyatt. You must be the most powerful being in the world." _

This vision stabbed at his heart. He was left breathless for a moment, watching Wyatt slam the door behind him. Why did he feel so angry and insecure all of a sudden? What was that vision? Who were those two little boys, that man and woman?

Of all times to get a new power, when he needed to be the most alert.

"Chris—you just had another vision, didn't you?" Phoebe asked softly. "What are you seeing?"

Think of a lie, he thought to himself frantically. "My parents," he burst, unable to think of any other excuse.

Piper shook her head. "I know it's hard. Our mother died when we were little and our father wasn't around."

Phoebe gave a little half-grin. "He's making up for it now, though."

Chris nodded, not really understanding hat they were saying. He couldn't let their words sink in right now, so he just stored it into his mind for further evaluation. His heart was pounding. Was it possible that they could see it beating through his shirt? Could they sense his panic?

He'd never lied so much in his life before. He was sure any moment he'd be caught, exposed as a fraud, maybe even killed.

"I won't ask you any questions, but it seems that the way you've been living hasn't been…satisfactory. Without your parents to support you, it's no wonder. How long have you been on your own for?"

"Ten years. I mean, they died when I was four, and I was sent to an orphanage. I left when I was eleven," he lied. Lies, lies, lies—it almost felt exhilarating as well as guilty, funny as it seemed. "That's why I can't remember them very well."

"Well, they must have been powerful," Piper mused. "Probably both witches, considering your abilities. They must have been killed in that massacre…"

Phoebe shuddered. "We barely made it out."

Silence hung heavily over the room.

"How'd you escape? I mean, you're the Charmed Ones. I'd have thought, you know, since you're like, really powerful, that you'd be targeted…"

"We were targeted," Piper said grimly. "It was awful. We had more than one son, you know. There was another. His name was Chris, too, come to think of it. He would be about your age…He saved us, orbed us out of the chaos on a fluke. Wyatt's never been quite the same ever since. It was so horrible…" She shook a little, fighting back tears. "I feel so guilty. I wasn't a very good mother to him, now that I look back."

Chris had no idea why those words seem so sickly satisfying to hear. His own mother, wherever she may be, most likely dead, hadn't been very good to him, either. Whoever she was had left him all alone without any memory or hope of survival. He was lucky beyond belief to be alive, no thanks to her.

Then the weird visions engulfed him again. He fought it—not again. The last one hadn't been very pleasant, and he suddenly had this great feeling of dread…

"_Wyatt, do something! Wyatt—" _

"_What can I do? I can't do anything!" _

"_You're the powerful one! Daddy and Mommy always said you were better! Make them go away, Wyatt!" _

"Chris!" Phoebe was nudging him back to reality. "You were shaking. Man, this new power isn't kicking it off too well, is it?" She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Here, why don't we head to the manor? I'll get Paige to orb us. You can rest there for a while. You look exhausted."

"Thank you," he said gratefully. Before they exited, though, he looked back at Piper. "Piper…I think I saw them. Your sons at the massacre."

She looked up at him, her face tear-stained. "Do you know how it happened?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry."

"I just hope it was fast and painless when he died," Piper said, mostly to herself. Phoebe closed the door gently behind them and they fished through the crowd again.

A woman with long, orange-colored hair was working the bar, passing out drinks. Chris felt comforted by the sight of her for some odd reason, but disregarded it. He was tired—all that lying really was a workout for his nerves. How long would he last?

For a moment he was shocked at this thought of "how long he would last." Did he really think that, in the end, he was going to be caught? Is that what his deep, inner conscience truly believed?

No. He couldn't let himself think that way. He was going to earn Wyatt's trust and make it back to headquarters if it killed him. But it wasn't going to kill him. Was it?

He forced his irrational thoughts to cease as Phoebe introduced him.

"Paige, this is Chris. There's a demon after him. He's going to stay at the manor tonight. Could you…?"

"Most certainly," said Paige, her face lighting up with a smile. "Anything to get outta serving more drinks!"

Chris smiled back at her. She made him feel oddly at ease. He followed her into another backroom, and she held out her hand.

"This might feel weird," she warned, "since it's your first orb. But I'm sure you'll be fine. Cole, Phoebe's husband, is baby-sitting the kids. Mel is Phoebe's daughter and Annie is my daughter—they're thirteen and twelve."

"You have a daughter?" he asked before he could think.

"Yeah. Weird, isn't it? I know I don't look the type, but she's the best daughter a mother could ask for. When her father died before she was born, I thought I'd never be happy again…but now I know better."

Chris was startled that Pete had neglected to tell him there was another daughter. Not that it complicated things too badly—he just liked to be aware of details like that.

"Brace yourself," Paige joked, lightening the mood a bit.

The orbing wasn't half bad, though. It almost felt…familiar. Like Paige's whole essence was familiar to him. Why did he feel like that?

When they arrived, they were in the living room of what was assumedly the manor. A man was on the couch with two girls, watching a movie.

"Hey, Cole. There's a demon—"

Cole looked at Chris and leapt up off the couch. "Ch—Chris?"

Paige looked at him in wonder. "How'd you know?"

* * *

I like cliffies. I know I kind of recycled this cliffie (it was Wyatt before, now it's Cole) but it seemed like a good place to leave off. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPER COOL REVIEWS! Oh, and just to clarify: This is a slight AU fic in the unchanged future. Thanks again! YOU ALL ROCK!


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Yes, I own Charmed because I'm Brad Kern's sister's-neighbor's-dog's-friend's-owner's mailman's-wife's-sister in law's-mother's-student. Yeah, right.

* * *

Chapter Four

Cole hesitated. "I don't know. What demon?" he asked hastily.

Paige gave him a funny look. "I'm not quite sure, actually—Phoebe and Piper were talking to him at the club. There's some kind of demon after him, he says, so he's staying at the manor for a while till we get this all sorted out. Do you want to call your parents?" asked Paige, not having heard the previous conversation in which he disclosed the fact he was and orphan.

"No, thank you," he said courteously.

"Are you sure? They'll be worried," Paige said with a slight frown.

"They're dead," Chris said as quickly as possible. Paige opened her mouth to say something, but Chris interrupted. "It's fine, I don't remember them."

_Or do I? _

"That's terrible," said Paige. "Were they both—?"

"Witches?" Chris supplied. "I'm not sure, actually. Could have been. I got hit in the head during that massacre ten years ago and it wiped my memory clear of anything. I don't even know if my real name's Chris!" he said with a half-way laugh.

"It could be," said Cole mysteriously. "Well, you go ahead, Paige—I'm sure Piper needs your help with the club."

Paige sighed. "Oh, boy. The club. And to think I used to be the one ordering all those drinks!"

The girls laughed from the couch.

Chris turned to the two of them. One of them had dark hair and exotic-looking eyes, obviously Paige's daughter, Annie. The other had doe-filled blue eyes and a darker shade of blonde hair—assumedly Phoebe's and Cole's daughter, Mel—and somehow looked naïve and innocent. He felt as if they both needed protection from the outside world, but even more so with Mel, only because it felt routine to protect her. Like he'd done it before.

Wow, this day had been weird.

Both girls were staring at him and Cole flicked off the TV. "Girls, I think it's time for bed," he announced, ruffling their hair. They squealed, distracted from Chris for a moment. They must have been used to strangers being in their house by this time, he figured.

The girls went up to their bedrooms without any protest. Cole turned to Chris and Chris felt himself shiver for a moment.

"I have some questions to ask you," said Cole, surveying him with a serious expression. He seemed to be sizing Chris up and studying him, trying to memorize all of his features. Or maybe…was he trying to compare them to someone else?

"Sure," Chris tried to say as casually as possible.

"So…you can't remember anything from before ten years ago?"

Chris nodded.

"Not anything at all?" he pressed.

Why was he asking? Could this man see through his lies? He'd heard that some people had the power of telepathy. What if he knew?

"No," Chris said. "Not anything."

"You look like you might know something," Cole mused. "Even just a tiny bit of a conversation would be enough."

"I—" He was about to admit to the weird visions, but he knew it wouldn't be appropriate to talk to this man he hardly knew. He was the outsider here. If they found something out about him that they didn't like, it was he who had everything at stake. "I don't know."

Cole nodded. "You might remember someday."

"I don't think so," said Chris doubtfully.

"Where do you stay?"

"Nowhere in particular. I drift."

"Drift?" A small smile played on Cole's lips. "That doesn't sound very smart. How do you plan to live on the streets?"

Chris shrugged. "I get by." Yeah, he got by. Underground, never seeing the sunlight, trapped in a room with Owen and a whole bunch of older boys and men that disregarded him.

The feelings for the Alliance members he'd never considered before surfaced. Did he really resent some of them for ignoring him so? Pete and Owen were his only friends, the only people he interacted with. He was the youngest Alliance member, almost considered a bother.

But this would change everything. Once he came through for them, he wouldn't be that stupid little kid taking up space underground. They'd see—he'd show them.

"I can see you don't want to tell me the truth."

Chris opened his mouth to protest, but Cole interrupted.

"I'm not accusing you of anything—I can just tell by the way you're looking at me that you're reluctant to answer. It's fine, really, but I'm still going to ask."

Chris figured that the only thing he could do now was try to tell at least part of the truth. "It's really complicated. All you need to know is that I'm a witch and a demon's after me."

"I think there's more to you than that." Cole cocked his head, still surveying the teenager. "You look familiar. You realize that, don't you?"

"How did you know my name?" Chris burst.

"You looked like someone I once knew."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter," Cole said sharply. "I'm not quite sure who you are, Chris, but I trust you. You don't look like someone that would cause us harm. Why don't you get some rest? I'll be upstairs in my room reading until the girls get home if you need me. You can have the couch. There are some pillows and a blanket over there." His eyes lingered on Chris for another moment. "See you in the morning, then."

"Yeah…thank you."

"Think nothing of it," said Cole, heading up the stairs.

Chris collapsed onto the couch. It could have been worse, he thought. He could've accidentally revealed everything he knew, tattled on the Alliance and screwed the entire mission. But he had hope. He'd come close to the edge of failing, but he made it this far. He was in the manor. Not very many people could've gotten into the manor that fast.

With this last reassuring thought, he slipped into slumber.

_Chris found himself in an endless stretch of white clouds. "This is where you go when you die," a voice said to him. _

_He whipped around. "Who said that?" _

_A little boy with brown hair and green eyes, no more than four years old, stepped out from the fluffy pillows of white. "Me." He walked closer to Chris. "This is the place you go when you die." _

"_I'm not dead," said Chris. _

"_I know you're not. But I am." _

_Chris was puzzled. "But you can't be dead—you're standing right there next to me." _

_The boy looked up with a saddened expression. "I died ten years ago when the bricks fell down on me," he whispered. "But you can bring me back. Please, you have to remember. Bring me back, Chris." _

"_I can't, I don't know how," Chris protested. The boy disappeared. "Wait—I don't know how to remember! Come back, please! Tell me how to bring you back!" _

_A sharp pain hit his shoulder. "Hey—what's your name? Chris?"_

Chris stirred out of his dream. "Huh?"

Wyatt was looming over him, his eyes narrowed. "You were dreaming."

There was an awkward silence. "Yeah, I guess I was," said Chris after a moment. "What time is it?"

Wyatt shrugged. "Around midnight."

So much for curfew, Chris thought. Great, he had to befriend the irresponsible could-be murderer. Could this mission be any more complicated?

"You were mumbling about trying to remember something."

Chris straightened himself into a sitting position. "Well, I don't really know what I was dreaming about," he lied (again).

Wyatt's eyes narrowed even further if possible. "You're just a little suspicious, you know. An orphan boy with witch powers and a demon after him? How would you survive on your own as a witch? Someone would kill you and discover you." His eyes glinted. "I bet you're not even a real witch."

"I am," Chris insisted.

"Show me, then," Wyatt demanded, smirking. "Show me your wonderful witch powers."

"Okay," Chris said tentatively. Why was Wyatt so eager to know his powers? He figured he'd only show him the telekinesis. There was no way he'd be able to prove the visions to Wyatt—besides, they were useless visions anyways. "I can do telekinesis."

"Move that pen from the desk to the end table," Wyatt ordered.

Chris complied. His eyes focused on the pen then darted towards the end table. Unfortunately, the pen traveled at the same speed as his eyes, and the pen landed on the table only to skid off and fall to the floor with a thud.

"You need some work," said Wyatt.

"I know," admitted Chris. "I can't train or anything, though. Too many people out on the streets lurking all over the place." Actually, he never worked on it because the other members of the Alliance had no patience for him. They'd scold him when he busted something and leave him feeling awful.

"I could train you," Wyatt offered randomly.

Chris twitched. Did Wyatt really just say that? He was dumbfounded for a moment. Maybe he'd judged Wyatt the wrong way. "Um, sure…that'd be great. Thanks," he said numbly.

Wyatt grinned, but the grin somehow didn't look very friendly. "Great. You can be like the little brother I never had."

"I heard about him."

"Heard about whom?" Wyatt asked, pausing before leaving the room.

"Your brother. The one who died in the massacre," Chris explained. "My parents died in it, too. I think. I mean, either that or they ditched me," he said ruefully.

"Yeah, I had a brother." Wyatt's expression looked softer for a moment, almost untainted, before resuming the sinister appearance once more. "I don't remember him, though. I mean, not very well. Just a few things, like…"

"Like what?"

"Whatever," said Wyatt nonchalantly, walking up the stairs again.

"I'm sorry," Chris said quietly when he was out of earshot. He was sorry—sorry for that boy, sorry for his parents—and to some degree, sorry for himself. All he had been during these past few years to the Alliance was a burden. He didn't belong anywhere. What if he failed this mission? How could he face them again? Where would he go?

He shivered and decided not to think about that for the time being.

* * *

TBC... 


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Has anyone seen my other sneaker? Oh--I mean, um, I don't own Charmed. Yeah. Heh. But I need my sneaker...want to go running outside, yet no sneaker...maybe I shall check the basement...don't worry, I'll post first! Lol.

By the way, though, is anyone else wondering WHAT IN THE HECK THE PRODUCERS WERE THINKING WHEN THE CHARMED ONES AND LEO WENT COMPLETELY AWOL? (Deep breaths...) I DON'T UNDERSTAND! WHAT'S HAPPENING? THE VERY FOUNDATION I'VE BUILT MY STRANGE, TWISTED WORLD UPON IS CRUMBLING APART! AHHHHHHHHH! Okay, no more ranting, time for the story.

* * *

Chapter Five 

The rest of his night was dreamless, much to Chris' disappointment. He sighed at the small ray of light coming from the window. The house was completely silent, since it seemed pretty early. But then again, how would he know? He barely even saw the sun. To him, the sun rising just meant another insanely warm atmosphere like the one he faced yesterday.

Now he thought about the dream carefully, without Wyatt there to distract him. The dream—these visions—they were all like pieced to some big puzzle. But how did they fit together? Who was that little boy that claimed to be dead, and where had he met him before? Did the visions he had in his new targets' presences really mean anything, or were they just nonsense?

He sat there a while, considering this, but nothing hit him. There was no exciting moment of revelation where everything came together and made sense, so he pushed it aside in frustration. Or at least he tried to. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the one task ahead of him, the mission, his mind kept drifting…

"You awake?" asked Phoebe with a rather large yawn.

"Oh, hi," said Chris. "Yeah, I'm up."

"It's, like, seven in the morning," Phoebe moaned. "How can you wake up by choice at seven in the morning?" She sauntered into the kitchen, motioning for him to follow. "I gotta get to work on my column—I'm the advice columnist on the Bay Mirror newspaper. You've read that before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I have. It's a good paper. I haven't seen your column, yet, though." He bit his lip. The only newspapers he ever saw were the occasional rare copies of USA Today that could be smuggled in every now and then.

"So, did you get any more of those visions last night? You're powers seemed to be going totally haywire on you," Phoebe commented.

"They were a little freaky," Chris admitted, surprised that someone would acknowledge something that happened in his life when he was so used to be ignored. "But I didn't have anymore last night." I think, he added to himself. That dream…

"I know how you feel," said Phoebe with a sigh, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "I have premonitions and I'm an empath as well."

Chris froze. "Does that mean you can, like, read thoughts?" he asked as casually as he could.

"No, but I can read emotions," Phoebe told him. She grinned at his reaction, which he wasn't able to stifle effectively. "Don't worry. I hardly ever use those powers—causes too much conflict, you know?

"Hmm." Chris didn't let his guard down, though. He wasn't quite sure if he believed her.

"So, Cole tells me you two sort of got to know each other last night," Phoebe mused, trying to change the subject.

"Oh. Yeah," Chris acknowledged, swallowing on reflex. He wondered what he told her. Did he mention that he thought he was hiding something? Did she have reason to suspect him now?

"He said you looked familiar." Phoebe cocked her head, surveying him. Chris felt himself tense. "But I don't really see how…well, maybe you look a little familiar. Sort of like Leo."

"Who's Leo?" asked Chris, pretending not to know.

"Wyatt's father. He's an elder Up There, so we don't see very much of him."

"Wyatt must be pretty powerful," said Chris. Maybe he could trick her into telling him all of Wyatt's powers. That kind of information would benefit him if he was to find out if Wyatt really was the murderer of Cassandra.

Phoebe nodded. "I suppose so. But he worries me."

"How so?"

Phoebe sighed. "I don't know. I guess…sometimes…he gets a little too angry for his own good. He has a lot of power." Her nose twitched. "Oh, well, that's not any of my business," she said, laughing awkwardly. "Let's focus on your demon problem."

"Oh, that's okay, I—" He stopped. "I mean, yeah, that'd be nice." Stay on topic. There was plenty of time to learn things about Wyatt later without sounding too suspicious.

"Well, Paige and I leafed through the book a bit last night, and we couldn't find any demon matching your description. He must be fairly new in the Underworld." She took a last swig of her coffee. "But don't worry about it, Chris, we'll find him. Hey, do you…well, this is a stupid question, but do you go to a school?"

"Um, no…" Chris blushed. Everything he'd ever learned was from Owen or Pete or trial-by-error underground. There was no "school" for a little kid that got in the way. "But I won't, like, stick around too long. I can just come back later if—"

"No, no—of course not! You're perfectly welcome here, anytime, any day."

For the first time, he felt like he mattered to somebody. Phoebe had this way of making people feel that way. But what if she knew the truth—that he was trying to prove whether or not her nephew killed people? Would she feel the same way she did right now? "Thank you," he managed to say.

"Would you like something for breakfast?"

"Yes, please." Chris realized just how hungry he was, having missed dinner the day before.

"What would you like to have?"

The question threw Chris off. There was more than one breakfast food? All they got underground was cornflakes, and milk at the beginning of each month when it could be spared. What else did people eat for breakfast up here?

"Anything is fine," Chris said honestly. At this point, he didn't care if it oozed slime—he was hungry.

He was shocked when Phoebe took miniature pancakes out of a package from the freezer and stuck them in the microwave. Was this normal? To make pancakes in a _microwave_? He'd never actually had a pancake before, but he was pretty sure they were made in pans on the stove or a griddle or something. In several minutes, however, she stuck the plate in front of him.

"Voila," she said in fake sophistication. "Your slaved-over meal."

He decided not to ask questions. "Thanks!" He ate it slowly, trying not to cause suspicion. "These are good," he said.

"What can I say? I'm a fabulous cook."

Paige walked in. "Your lying to the kid this early in the morning? I can't believe you, Pheebs."

Phoebe scoffed playfully. "I'm a better cook than you, so there."

"Nuh-uh!"

"I am!"

"Are not—"

"_Give that back, Wy! It's mine!" _

"_Is not!" _

"_Is too!" _

"_Is not—"_

Chris snapped out of it before anyone noticed him space out. "Tell her, Chris," Phoebe laughed. "Tell her how you adore the pancakes I labored over."

"I adore them," said Chris dutifully, smirking.

"Traitor!" Paige stuck out her tongue and grabbed a pancake from Phoebe's plate. "Payback," she explained with through a mouthful of food.

Chris suddenly had the odd impression he was being watched. He'd never gotten a feeling like that before, having been ignored most of the time. Instinctively, he raised his head towards the kitchen entrance.

There stood Piper, eyes narrowed, observing him.

Her face changed immediately upon eye contact. "Good morning," she greeted him quickly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, thank you. The couch was comfortable." He felt awkward, like he was out of place in this house all of a sudden. More so than he had felt that way before.

"I'm glad." Piper reached for the paper and flipped through it idly, not really pausing to read it. "So, Chris. Do you know anybody out on—well, wherever you live?"

"Know anybody?" Chris asked. "Sure. I guess I know a few people."

"Who?" Her eyes flashed towards him. Their brown color no longer seemed warm and inviting. They seemed suspicious.

"I don't know any names; there are just people I run into sometimes."

"I see. So, you're not, like, affiliated with anyone?"

Chris frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Just wondering if you had any other…intentions." She said the last word carefully and precisely, watching with a sort of satisfaction as it sliced through him. "We didn't find any demons matching your description last night, you know."

"Piper…" Phoebe said, "Why are you acting so weird? He's just a kid."

"Kids are capable of a lot more than you may think, Pheebs," said Piper. "I mean, look at our kids. They're practically superhumans. What are the chances that a kid with just as much power or more than your guys' daughters?"

"Piper, don't be ridiculous. I'm sure Chris is powerful," she said to lessen the sting of the admittance, "but I don't think he's capable of overcoming any of our kids. He wouldn't. Cole trusts Chris and I do, too."

"He's been in the house for—what, eight hours? And after like, two conversations, you're all best buds?"

"I'm sorry," Chris apologized sincerely. "I didn't realize that you…I didn't mean to—" He was sweating. The mission had to be accomplished. He didn't know enough about Wyatt! But at the same time, he wanted to be gone as fast as he could. The rejection in her eyes…it was so familiar. He hated it. Something, some anger from a lifetime ago, seemed to rise up inside of him. He wanted to leave—he needed to leave—

And then he was gone.

The orbs, so similar to Paige's, overcame him. He was dancing out of his own body, for the first time feeling free. There were no boundaries…he could keep floating in this shapeless wonderland forever…

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

"Wait!" Phoebe cried out.

"Oh my god," Paige said in a little squeak. "Did he…? Tell me he didn't just…?"

"The elders must have sent him!" Piper raged. "Of all the god damn, inhuman things to do—they're sending snot-nosed SPIES to us—"

Phoebe winced.

"_What the hell happened?" asked a pregnant Paige weakly, righting herself into a kneeling position. All around her were clouds. _

"_We're…Up There," said past Phoebe in awe, Mel in her arms, crying. "How did we…?" _

"_Wyatt—Chris—" Piper whipped around, clutching Wyatt with one hand and searching frantically with the other. "Where's Chris? Chris! Chris—"_

"_Chris did it, Mommy—Chris orbed us here—" Wyatt stuttered. "Mommy…Chris is dead." His voice said these words with such finality that Piper collapsed to the floor in tears. The two other sisters were shocked into silence. Chris? How could cute little Chris be dead? _

"_He can't be…" past Phoebe muttered in disbelief. _

"Who can't be what?" asked Paige, abruptly ending the scene in Phoebe's mind with her interjection. "Who are you talking to?"

Phoebe rubbed her head. "I've never had a vision quite like that before," she mumbled.

"What'd you see?" Piper demanded. "What's that boy going to do, hmm?"

Phoebe's brown eyes grew wide with realization. "I…I think I know who he is."

* * *

I'm so, so, so, SO sorry for not updating! I've totally been a space case lately what with all the Standards of Learning tests and all the final exams in the high school courses I'm taking early...(shudders). Just a French and an Algebra test left to go, though, and only fifteen more days of school! (Or is it fourteen?) And that's not counting weekends. I promise I'll update insanely during summer though. I'll have nothing else to do! Besides swim team...can you believe that it's gonna be, like, two and a half hours a day if I go to both swim practices? EVEN ON SUNDAY! (But that's only an hour.) I think it's cruel and unusual. Lol. And the water in the outdoor pool (I swim indoor in a heated pool in the fall and winter and early spring) is sooooooooooo freaking cold. I got totally sick, which is why I have the time to be typing up this story rather than swimming or school or baby-sitting or community service or--you get the point. Now I'm infecting the keyboard, though...I shall try to remember to threaten my siblings with this fact...MWAHAHAHA! I AM THE KEYBOARD-INFECTER!

OMG--Who's seen Star Wars? IT'S NOT FAIR! MY ANI WILL NEVER BE EVIL! PLEASE, NOOOOOOOOOO! Lol. It's--it's--SICKENING. The kid that played Anakin in Phantom Menace back in 1999 was like, totally my first crush ever. I was seven or eight at the time and his face was on the cover of Nickelodeon Magazine. I was enraptured (isn't that weird?) lol. But now, of course, I've moved onto bigger and better things--LIKE DREW! Which reminds me...a couple of months ago he appeared in a Lindsay Lohan video. I forgot what it was called, but it was REALLLLY sad. Watch it, though! Lol.

May the force be with all of my fellowstrange, Chris-obsessed people.


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Okay, I certainly don't own Charmed, and I would spend more time coming up with some funny little add-on to that like I usually do, 'cept I'm too confused...What's up with all the changes on thelogin feature? It took me, like, ten minutes and several bad wordsjust to figure out how to get this on document manager. Anyone else lost...? Lol. Maybe it's just cuz I'm blonde!

* * *

Chapter Six

In some other lifetime, Chris would be freaking out. In fact, if it weren't for his already overwhelming fear of forever failing the mission, he might have actually noticed the depths of the waters below and the rushing cars. His ears were ringing. He wasn't quite sure how far up from the ground he was, but he knew it was far. It was the Golden Gate Bridge, after all…

And maybe being this far up for once wasn't so bad.

This was the highest he'd ever be in his whole life, he realized. Usually he was the own underneath everything. Up here, he felt powerful. He was above all those people in their cars and above the Manor, wherever it may be, and he was even further above the headquarters. So unbelievably high.

As a result, he didn't pay the dangers below him too much mind. The atmosphere was intense and awe-striking. The blue of the sky never seemed so vibrant, the proud gleam of the water so beautiful, or the sun so calming with its heat. Today it didn't feel as achingly hot as it had to the day before. A gentle breeze even blew threw. How, he wondered, was he going to leave this place behind? How could he ever return to the Underground after witnessing the daytime at its peak?

He frowned. He had to return—that is, if he wanted to live.

"What are you doing up here?" somebody asked him in an eerily calm voice.

Chris jumped, feeling his heart skip with shock. "What the—?" He whipped around. Nobody was there. "Who—?"

"Sorry," the voice muttered. A man unveiled himself, the air near Chris that was once transparent now a person standing in front of him. "Didn't realize you couldn't see me."

Chris gulped, lost for words. "Hello," he managed to say.

There was an awkward pause.

"You really should be up with the other whitelighters," the man said warningly. "I don't think you're supposed to be up here—unless you have a charge, that is."

"A what?" Chris racked his brain. Why would this man think he was a whitelighter? He assessed the robes he was wearing. He had to be an elder, by the looks of it. Could he be the father of Wyatt? No, that wasn't possible…didn't Phoebe mention that he wasn't around all that often? What would he be doing on earth if he wasn't with them?

"_Well, maybe you look a little familiar. Sort of like Leo."_

Phoebe's words floated through his consciousness. Staring at this man, he couldn't notice much that they had in common—probably because Chris wasn't very accustomed to seeing his own face in a mirror. Something about Leo's demeanor, though, reminded him of himself. But that was only a rough guess, considering they hadn't even made ten exchanges of conversation between one another yet.

"A charge," said Leo slowly, observing Chris just as Chris had observed him. "Are you one of the newer whitelighters?"

"N-no, I'm not a whitelighter," said Chris. "Why would you think I was a whitelighter?"

"You orbed up here. I felt it," Leo insisted.

Chris shrugged, feeling his heart pumping in his ears. It wouldn't be easy getting out of this one without an explanation. He couldn't even think of a proper lie to get himself out of it.

"I don't know how that happened," he said honestly. "One minute I was at the Halliwells' house, and then—"

"The Halliwells?" Leo echoed, his face suddenly alert with a new fire.

"Yes, the Halliwells," said Chris. "A demon's after me. You're Leo, aren't you?"

"Yes…" Leo looked at him incredulously. "How'd you know that?"

"You look a lot like Wyatt," Chris said. _And for some reason, a lot like me. _

"How…how are they?" Leo asked. It was obvious that there was some sort of battle of wills between him and the sisters, probably because of his high status Up There. "I mean, the sisters and Cole and the kids?"

"They're fine."

"That's good to hear," said Leo, looking a bit relieved. He was still tense, though, his gaze from Chris' face never faltering. "You look so familiar to me. How could you not be a whitelighter? There aren't any other half-whitelighters in the world besides Paige and Wyatt, I don't think. Who are your parents?"

"Dead." Chris cleared his throat before Leo could say anything. He hated it when people got all sympathetic like that, and he wanted pity from an elder least of all. He'd rather have a demon's pity. The elders were cowards, turning their back on what little survived from the massacre all those years ago. Had they ever once assisted the Alliance? No. They left the witches to fend for themselves.

_No_, Chris reminded himself, _anger is not a place here. I am not an Alliance member now, I'm some orphan kid living on the streets with a demon after him. Get that straight! _

"I don't know who they are or anything, so it doesn't matter," he added quickly to avoid the subject. "And I don't know why I'd look familiar. I've never actually been Up There or anything."

"Not even Magic School?"

"Magic what?"

"Magic school," Leo repeated, eyeing him warily. "You mean to tell me you're an orphan kid with whitelighter powers on your own?"

"Yeah." He hoped Leo didn't hear his voice wobble.

"Why haven't we detected you?" Leo muttered, more to himself than Chris. "It makes no sense. If you use whitelighter powers—witch powers, even, for that matter—we should be able to detect you."

"I've been using my witch powers all of my life," said Chris honestly. Now he himself was beginning to wonder about this. Why wouldn't the elders detect him if they really had that power? "I can do telekinesis and I just recently started having visions…they're a little haywire, though."

Leo nodded. "Phoebe has visions."

"I know."

Leo's stare seemed to pierce him, though not painfully. Though Chris felt uncomfortable knowing he was being so closely watched, he didn't feel threatened. Something about Leo made him feel safe. But then again, could he ever truly feel safe when there were horrible people out there that wanted to kill him?

"I just don't understand," said Leo, shaking his head. "You're obviously powerful, and the elders always feel any kind of…"

_But there's more than just me! _Chris longed to scream. _There's a whole slew of people in the Alliance that you're not detecting! You've gotta help us, or no one else will! _

"…oh well." Leo cleared his throat. "I must have seen you somewhere before, though. You almost look like my son, Wyatt. You almost look like—" Leo paled. "You almost look like…no, you look a _lot _like…"

"Like whom?"

"Like somebody I once knew," Leo said carefully.

Chris didn't press the matter much further. He didn't want Leo to be suspicious of him—he might be a good ally if the sisters chose not to like Chris. Piper surely wasn't taking much of a liking to him anymore.

There was a slight jungle. "I'd better get Up There, the elders are calling me," Leo explained reluctantly. "Well, good luck." He orbed out.

Chris wished he'd stayed a moment longer—how the heck was he supposed to get off the bridge? Fly off? He closed his eyes, trying to orb again. "C'mon…"

It didn't happen. It obviously wasn't going to happen anytime soon, either. Ugh.

"Is the coast clear?" Wyatt asked snidely, orbing in front of Chris. Chris jumped up in surprise, almost losing his balance. "Did I freak you out?" He snickered, offering no apology for his actions.

"What do you mean, the coast clear?" asked Chris.

Wyatt frowned, almost menacingly. "Leo. I mean, my father. He comes up here all the time—I can sense him, but the idiot has no idea. I mean, if he had the time to orb up here and do all his wonderful elder meditating, why is it that he has no time for his family?" Wyatt asked bitterly. He turned to Chris. "What kind of crap did he try to pull on you, hm?"

"He actually seemed pretty nice," said Chris. He regretted saying it, though, knowing it would be a wiser choice to agree with Wyatt.

"Pretty nice, huh?" Wyatt scoffed, kicking one of the pillars of the bridge with his foot.

Yeah, this kid obviously had anger issues. Chris made a mental note to tell Pete about this.

"Well, he's not pretty nice. Don't talk to him again, okay?" Wyatt demanded, as if it were Chris' fault that he ran into Leo. Without waiting for a response, he smirked, saying, "I figured that you'd need some help, considering that that was probably the first time you orbed. Didn't want my new trainee to get stuck up here. You've got a lot to learn."

"Like what?" asked Chris. "Could we start now?"

"Sure," said Wyatt, his expression suddenly changing. "We'll start today's lesson up here, right now." He took a step closer to Chris.

Chris suddenly was very aware of how high up he was…and he didn't feel so powerful anymore. He felt intimidated by Wyatt's attitude and it sent a strange chill up his spine. Why did Wyatt look so wild?

"The first lesson that I want you to never forget," Wyatt began, "is that demons are not allowed to infiltrate the Halliwell manor."

His eyes locked with Chris'.

"Okay," said Chris uncertainly.

"And you're no exception!" Wyatt cried. His eyes watered in fury. "How—how dare you! Coming to us, pretending to look for help—you demon scum! Pretending to be my _dead brother_! How sick are you?" Wyatt's face was shadowed, looking down. "Sick. You're sick, I tell you. Don't you think we've suffered enough? His death tore the whole family apart….and you…you—" Wyatt's face contorted into one of utter detestation. "You disgust me."

"What--?"

"Don't act all innocent!" Wyatt screamed. "It won't work! I'm going to resolve this once and for all!"

"Wyatt—I don't know what you're—hey, stop--!"

It was too late, though. All it took was a little push to send Chris flying off the edge and into the watery depths below.

* * *

Har-dee-har-har. Will Chris survive? Is Wyatt crazy? Has the mission failed? Am I certifiably insane? Stay tuned...for only you can find the answer... BWAHAHAHA!

TBC!


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: If only, if only...Me? Owning Charmed? That's right up there with the, "Mommy, will you buy me a pony? And a Lexus convertible just in case I don't like the pony? And maybe a fancy truck with four-wheel-drive in case I don't like that?" Mm-hm. Just like the pony...no Charmed. But I don't feel too bad, because I don't own Charmed--AND NEITHER DO YOU! HAHAHAHA! (Apologies to Aaron Spelling and all the Charmed actors and actresses if, by blessed and unlikely chance that you stumble upon this page and really DO own Charmed.) Other than that, though, I have NO REASON to be ashamed for my lack of Charmed-ownership. Lol. So there...

READ READ READ READ!

* * *

Chapter Seven

Chris didn't even have time to think about what was going to happen before he slammed into the water. His body hit with such a force that he was completely numb and lost to feeling—the next moment, feeling as though he were on fire. Yet the water was so cold. How could you burn and freeze at the same time?

He'd never seen so much water in one place before. The biggest amount of it he'd even seen was in a bathtub, and that wasn't endlessly deep like the bay seemed to be. Was it possible to lose track of up and down? Where was the surface? He tried to look around, but couldn't see anything in the murky water. His eyes stung and his lungs burned for air. He was thankful, though, that he remembered not to try to breathe on impact. He'd be done for by now. He had some air left…

But where was the surface? He couldn't swim—he couldn't remember having done so before. No one had ever taught him how, but some strange instinct came over him and he started paddling upwards with his arms and feet. Anything to get him anywhere—hopefully towards oxygen.

His muscles began to scream on the inside with every forced movement. His ragged, old clothes felt ten times heavier than ever before. Something brushed his foot. _What lived down here? Whose habitat have I invaded_? He wondered randomly. _If I die down here, will eat be eating my remains?_

Ew. He tried not to think about that. Focus—that's what he needed right now, more than ever before. He had to somehow find a way out of this so he didn't fail the mission and let down Pete and the Alliance. He had to—

Then the orbs overcame him again. He let out the precious breath of air in relief, letting the lights travel him where they may. He didn't care where he was headed. Anywhere was better than that water.

He landed with a crash in the corner of Pete's office, drenched and choking for air. His vision immediately blackened and slowly restored itself as he grasped a vague awareness of his surroundings. He was underground again, and Pete had just shot up from his chair in alarm.

"Chris?" he gasped. "What in the—are you all right?"

"Fine," Chris managed to splutter. He grinned ruefully. "Just a bit wet."

"How in the hell did you--?" Pete's dark eyes grew wide with comprehension, then he narrowed them. His expression was suspicious and angry. "No way. I can't believe this. You're a whitelighter?"

"N-no!" Chris shook his head, coughing again to clear his lungs. "I'm not a whitelighter. I have no idea how I…did that thing. It just happened. You have to believe me!" he added desperately when Pete's attitude ceased to change. "It's never happened before today, I swear."

Pete crossed the room over to Chris. "Stand up."

Chris did as he was told. "I…" He wanted to make an excuse, but couldn't find one. What was so bad about orbing? It wasn't like it killed anyone. So he had a weird power. Plenty of people in the Alliance had weird powers, didn't they?

"You what?"

Pete's eyes were cold and unwelcoming. Chris shivered. This man that he'd known all his life, looked up to and tried to please, was suddenly a threat to him.

"I don't understand," said Chris uneasily. "Why are you mad?"

"Because you lied to me," Pete sneered. "You lied to all of us, Chris. How could you? We trusted you. Little did we know, there was a—" His face contorted in disgust. "—_whitelighter _in our midst."

"What's so bad about whitelighters?" asked Chris. It didn't make any sense. Didn't whitelighters and elders do good? That's what he'd assumed, though there wasn't much talk of them in the Alliance. Actually, people hardly ever mentioned them. His positive feelings for whitelighters came somewhere from within the past he didn't know, a little piece of him that he kept to himself.

"So you admit that you're a whitelighter!" Pete cried.

"That's not what I said! You're not even listening to me!" Chris protested. "What's wrong with you, Pete? Who are you?"

Pete's expression slowly changed into one of unease. "So…you really say that you know nothing of this power? That it just came out of nowhere?"

"Yes."

He sat back down, muttering something under his breath. Chris didn't say anything while Pete thought to himself. What was to happen now? He felt unexplainably guilty for something he didn't mean to do. It was just an orb, a silly power. What was it to Pete if there were whitelighters in the Alliance, anyway? Wouldn't it only make change for the better?

For the first time Chris began to doubt his whole world and everything he knew.

"Does anyone else know you have this power?" Pete demanded.

"The Halliwells," said Chris.

"What!" Pete hissed, outraged. "I can't believe this. How much do they know about you?"

"Just that I'm an orphan kid living on the streets with a demon after him," said Chris. "And Wyatt…he seems to think that I'm…"

"That you're what?" Pete demanded. "Tell me!"

"Nothing," said Chris quickly. "I don't have to tell you anything." He'd never been defiant in his life—he'd always followed the rules, doing what people told him to do. But now he was afraid. The more he was with the Halliwells, the more he felt out of place in the Alliance. Something was wrong.

Why hadn't he seen it before? There was always something weird about the Alliance. Something…tainted, something evil.

"You do have to tell me. I sent you on this mission, Chris," he said in a poorly controlled voice that was shaking in anger. "Not the others. I sent you. I am your commander in this situation, I am your superior. You are entitled to tell me what you know. That's the way things work. _Do you understand?_"

Chris swallowed. "I don't trust you. I don't know what to think anymore, Pete. I'm old enough now to see that this whole place is amiss. I…"

"You can't do that. You can't just change your mind. We took you in when no one else would! You would've died, being a witch out there."

"I'm grateful that the Alliance took me in, not you. You had nothing to do with it." Chris stared at Pete long and hard as the man caught his breath from the exhilaration of their argument. "Before you question me, I have a few things to ask you myself," Chris said bravely, almost cockily. He didn't know where this sudden courage was coming from, but it felt right.

"Fire away," Pete spat.

"Why is it that the elders and the whitelighters can't sense anyone in the Alliance?" Chris asked.

"You told them about us?" Pete nearly screamed.

"No, I didn't, but I ran into Leo. He said he should've been able to sense me, no matter where I was on earth, seeing that I'm a witch," Chris explained as calmly as possible. "Why couldn't he?"

Pete hesitated. "The Alliance is cloaked," he said simply, as if that was a sufficient explanation.

"Why?" asked Chris incredulously. "Why do we not like elders?"

"The elders don't agree with the Alliance on what's obviously right." Pete didn't—or couldn't—meet Chris in the eye. "We cut of ties with them at the massacre."

"What is it that the Alliance thinks is so right if it's leaving the members down underground without supplies when the elders could help?"

"The members of the Alliance are faithful and are here by choice!" Pete said.

"Well, maybe I'm not here by choice."

There was a stony silence between the two of them.

"Look, Chris. The massacre…it instilled a lot of anger in witches like you and me."

"You and I are not alike in any way," Chris interrupted. "I'm sure of that now. But go on with your explanation. I want to hear this."

Pete shook with rage. "I feared that this day may come, when you'd turn against us. I just didn't think you'd—oh, never mind. Chris, after the massacre, witches realized that it was simply too unsafe for mortals to be dominant. We knew that it was our right, as the magically gifted, to be superior to them."

"So this is all about power?" Chris shot at him.

"No, it's not power. It's our right."

"We have no such rights. Mortals are people, too. They just didn't understand—"

"Oh, really? They didn't understand, so they killed hundreds of witches?" Pete scoffed. "You, most of all, should understand, with your parents dead and everything."

"What are you planning to do?"

Pete cleared his throat, grinning a bit at the sides of his mouth. "We're planning to emerge in several months when we're powerful enough as a whole to dominate over the mortals. We'll finally get the respect we deserve; we'll never have to live in hiding again." The dark holes of Pete's eyes sparkled with greed. "We will make the rules for once."

"That's sick," said Chris.

"_They're_ sick!" Pete challenged. "Remember, Chris. They killed your family, wiped out your memory, drove you here to the Alliance underground for all these years."

"No," Chris whispered. "No, they didn't. You did."

He turned his back on Pete and ran out the door, slamming it loudly behind him. He ran down the hall, running into several people who cussed loudly at him, but he didn't care. He had to get out of here.

Desperately, he reached the hatch leading to the outside world and wrenched it open. The light was not so blinding this time—yes, he was finally seeing the light of all this darkness. He knew what was right and what was wrong. For once, something seemed clear to him. Wyatt killed Cassandra to stop the Alliance. Chris would have to forgive Wyatt for his mistake.

Wyatt had to trust Chris now, because Chris was probably they're last hope.

He had to hurry and warn the Halliwells.

* * *

Oooo, plot twists...MWAHAHAHAHA. Review, plz! Will accept flames (but only send them if your willing to make a small girl CRY! WAHHHHH lol kidding) THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS I LOVE YOU PEOPLES!


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed, but in a moment or two I will own my Drew...presuming that he walks into the trap I set and not his doggie! Lol. Don't worry, peeps, the tranquilizers won't hurt him. He'll feel all woozy and nice and then he'll be MINE! MWAHAHAHAH! Okay I'm shutting up now.

* * *

Chapter 8

Chris didn't make it very far, though. He was about halfway to the P3, where he could at least wait for Piper until evening, when a powerful hand grabbed the back of his drenched t-shirt and jerked him into an alley.

"Hey—!"

Chris looked into the stark-white eyes of a demon. It had no pupils, but its eyes seemed to be penetrating Chris' soul. He shuddered. What did this demon want with him? Demons didn't usually attack in broad daylight, or so he thought—and there weren't that many demon attacks with the Alliance. Maybe once a month or so there'd be a random one. So why now? And why him?

"You're not going anywhere," the demon hissed. Its tongue seemed to slither in its mouth, its lips thin and disgusting. "Not after we've worked this hard."

Chris pulled away, attempting to break free of the demon's clutches. "You're—you're a demon! What do you have to do with the Alliance?"

There was a pause—then Chris realized the truth. The demons had _everything _to do with the Alliance.

"Get away from me!" Chris hollered. "You're sick—all of you--!"

There was a sharp blow to his head and dark-tinted shadows seemed to crawl over his eyes until he plunged into an utterly black world.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

At the Manor—A Half Hour Earlier

"What?" Piper demanded. "Who is he, then, Phoebe?"

Phoebe shook her head. "I…"

"You what?" asked Paige gently, trying to pry the information her sister.

Phoebe's eyes flashed in painful remorse. "I'm not even really sure," she said, tapping her finger on the table nervously on the table. "Oh my god, I don't even know _what _I'm sure of right now."

"What did you see?" Paige coaxed.

"It was really random. I saw the past," Phoebe tried to explain. "I saw…Chris."

"You saw that kid's past?" Piper clarified.

"Maybe," Phoebe whispered. "Or maybe…maybe it was someone else's."

"You're not making any sense," said Paige.

"Can we get back to the real baffler here?" Piper cut in. "That kid just orbed! _Orbed! _The elders are sending whitelighter scum after us—either that, or…" Her eyes widened. "Could he have copied some of Wyatt's powers? Even stolen them?"

"Now, wait a second, Piper—"

"Wyatt!" Piper called. "Wyatt, come here!"

Wyatt and Cole both came down the stairs at the sound of her yells.

"Yeah, Mom?" asked Wyatt. "Hey, where's what's-his-name? The Chris kid?"

"He just orbed out," Paige said grimly.

"Cole, what do you think?" asked Piper. "Do you think he could be a demon that copied Wyatt's powers, or a whitelighter?"

"He had witch powers, too," said Cole, avoiding answering the direct question. He let a tiny bit of a smirk curl at his mouth. "Piper, think hard. Think back. I thought back the second that kid entered the manor, and Phoebe…" He nodded towards his wife. "I think she just looked back, too."

Phoebe nodded back, eyes filling with tears. "You don't think…?"

"I do think that it's true," Cole confirmed. "Piper, Paige, Wyatt…that kid coming here was no accident. It's Chris."

Piper opened her mouth to argue that that was absurd, Chris was his name, after all—

"No, Piper, he means _our _Chris," Phoebe choked. "The Chris that we thought was dead all those years ago at the manor. He's half witch, half whitelighter…and he obviously has no idea where he's from or what's happening to him."

"In all likelihood, somebody sent him here," Cole continued. "We need to get a hold on him—now. He's alone and can be easily taken advantage of. He's a Halliwell, Piper, whether you believe it or not."

Paige stood completely still, mouth slightly agape. After a moment, she said, "I believe it."

"Well, I don't!" Piper screamed. "You're crazy! My son, my little boy is dead! He has been for ten years! Why are you doing this to me? You can't bring Chris back to life! Nobody can! I couldn't, Leo couldn't—_Chris is dead_!"

Wyatt was completely pale and still next to Cole.

"Wy?" prompted Cole.

"I agree," said Wyatt, starting to shake almost angrily. "He's an imposter. He's a demon trying to get us to believe that he's Chris. If he really were alive…Dad would've been able to sense him. _I _would've been able to sense him!"

"Don't overestimate the power of a whitelighter," Paige warned.

Wyatt's face scrunched in frustration and pain. "You're nuts! All of you!" He ran back up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.

"Now look what you've done!" Piper accused, fuming. "You've gone and upset him for no reason! You know how horrible Wyatt's felt all these years about Chris dying! You all _know_!"

"Don't hide from the truth," Phoebe pleaded to her sister.

"No…you stop telling lies." With that, Piper swung around and headed up the stairs to go find Wyatt.

"Don't bother," Cole called after her. "He's already gone."

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Present Time 

Chris moaned as he tried to lift his eyelids. Why was he so wet? Oh yeah. The bridge. Wait—he was getting even wetter, though.

When he came to the conclusion, he swore under his breath. All his life he'd longed for rain, and now that he was in it, he was in no condition to enjoy it. His head throbbed unbelievably; he could literally feel the warmth of his own blood trickling in his hair and down his neck.

He had been shoved pretty deep into the alley, behind a dumpster. No one would notice him. The demon had it planned out perfectly—no one could see him, and no one would hear him over the roar of the pounding rain. Nobody would linger around in a downpour like this, either.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. The sky was dark, but the air was warm. He was a bit confused as to why he was noticing these random things when he could quite possibly be dead in a few minute's time. He wished he could just hurry up and die.

All his life, he'd been uncertain of everyone and everything. He never really had a choice in anything, did he? It was like, boom—your memory's gone and in order to survive as a four-year-old, you practically have to sell your soul to a bunch of Alliance members that you don't know. Then when you get there, you have no idea what's going on…and in your blissful naivety, you start to believe that everything's okay.

It wasn't okay.

It had never been okay.

For the first time his heart ached for the life he'd never known. He felt it…he needed it. He didn't know it, though—he was battling some unknown force. Was it the boy from the dream? The dead little boy, asking to be saved?

_He's not dead, _Chris suddenly realized. He shuddered, partly from pain and partly from the irony of his situation. _I am that boy. _

He closed his eyes, just for a minute. Just to think…could he save himself?

His head spun for a moment, but reassuringly. He was headed back.

_He had opened his eyes only moments ago to darkness. The heavy weight of the rubble seemed to be crushing his lungs; tears rolled down his cheeks. He'd lost something—someone?—and wasn't sure of anything. His mind raced. Where was he? What was he doing? What had happened? _

_Who was he? _

_Panic rose in his throat and he let out a whimper. The loss of his own identity swelled inside him like a balloon. How long would he last down here, trapped under these bricks? How long had he been down here already? His whole life? _

"_Help," he pleaded, voice hoarse. "Help me—someone—"_

_There were voices nearby, but he knew they wouldn't be able to hear him under everything. _

"…_.recruiting witches…" he heard someone murmur. "…found anything?" _

"_Not yet…only two witches…gone," another responded. _

_The voices came closer, grew clearer. "We need more if the Alliance is going to be formed." _

_Witch. He heard that word and sounded safe—but at the same time, afraid. It was familiar. Something to cling to. _

"_The Charmed Ones are still alive?" one asked. _

"_Yes, sir." _

"_And their kids?" _

"_One is missing. The eldest sister's younger boy," the man reported. _

"_Perfect." _

_He couldn't breathe. His current struggle forced him to tune out the men and their unusual conversation, intent on one goal: survive. He shook violently and the ground quaked beneath him. The rubble slowly began to slide away from around him. Light filtered through the rocks—oh, the blissful light, it was still there…The rubble flew off him in all directions until he was left standing in the middle of it all, green eyes wide with shock. _

_The men rushed over to him just as he collapsed. _

"_Could he be…?" _

"_There's no doubt in my mind. It has to be her kid. Take him to Pete's quadrant."_

"_Do we tell him?" _

"_Tell him what?"_

"_Who the kid is." _

"_No…I don't think that I trust that man just yet. Let the half-breed be our little secret weapon—when the time comes…" _

_That was the last glimpse of the light outside that he received for a long, long while. . _

A hand shook his shoulder and he gasped, choking for air.

"Chris…Chris, wake up! Chris—"

"Wyatt?" he managed to ask.

"Yeah, it's me…look, I—I'm sorry…I—"

A light blue glow radiated from Wyatt's hand and slowly Chris' pain faded. It was like a miracle. He figured that Wyatt inherited whitelighter powers from his—their—father.

And so did he.

Wyatt sighed with relief after the healing, then leaned back a couple of inches to take a good look at Chris. His stare was long and hard. Neither boy said a word.

"I can't believe I didn't see it…Chris, I'm so sorry."

* * *

Hey guys, sorry it took so long to update. I'm up to my neck with crud to do, not to mention that I'm swimming with my team two and a half hours a day now. (rubs sore muscles in agony lol). It's fun, but posting is hard when there's so many swim functions and baby-sitting gigs and people staying over at our house (HI CHRIS IF YOU'RE READING THIS) from Seattle for the week. And I just started voice lesson thingies because I've been singing the national anthem at swim meets and one of the lady peoples there told my mom to sign me up with a ladyif I was gonna "make it big" lol (in my dreams, lol...I'm trying to stay realistic). So I'm busy. Blah. Count on many updates mid-July and late August. THANKS FOR READING YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! Anda note for the person who reviewed me asking if we could swap emails and talk and stuff, could you review again? I lost track of who you were (I'm blonde, very sorry) and forgot your screen name...thanks again!

TBC!


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: Ahem. Wow, this is very demoting to admit again...I don't -gulp- own Charmed. -shudders- THERE, I SAID IT. HAPPY? ARGH! Lol. I figure I've written more than a hundred disclaimers by now, you know? Since you write one for every chappie...I've got 25 stories up now (22 of them are Chris-oriented! WOOT! Lol). Yup--disclaimers, disclaimers, and more diclaimers. It just never ends. Sorta like the laundry. My mom's like, "It never ENDS!" I suppose this is how she feels. Hmmmm lol. Or maybe not. :D

* * *

Chapter Nine

Wyatt ran a hand through his blonde hair and shook his head. "Wow, it's been so long since—"

"I know, Wyatt, but we can catch up later," Chris cut in. "Right now we have to warn your—our—family about the Alliance." Chris's face twitched as the guilt settled in. He'd been foolhardy enough to be taught to work against his own family. "They did this, Wyatt, they did all of it. They were the reason that nobody knew I was alive. I was knocked unconscious and lost my memory after the massacre, and they found me and took me underground to the headquarters. It probably save my life…but they're evil. I know that now."

"Alliance…" Wyatt repeated. "That had to be where the demon was from that attacked us a week or so ago."

"I was told her name was Cassandra and that she was an innocent witch just trying to hide, like I was," Chris said bitterly. "Pete, my mentor—he made me believe that witches were in turmoil up here. That someone could just look at me and know I was a witch, then sentence me to death. I had to live in fear of that every day, not even knowing who I was."

"But what do they want?"

"Domination." Chris stood angrily and Wyatt got up to his feet with him. "They want witches and demons to be superior, no matter who or what stands in their way. Pete knew me for ten years—he was the closest thing I ever had to a role model, and he just sent a demon to come and try to kill me."

"I'm sorry, Chris," said Wyatt after a moment.

Chris looked up at him. "Why? What do you have to do with any of it?"

"I'm sorry that I didn't do anything the night of the massacre, and I'm sorry we had to be separated for the past decade and I'm really, really sorry about shoving you off a bridge," he joked.

"Yeah, well, let's just say I'm so scarred for life that I'm never gonna pick up skydiving."

"Do you have any idea what Pete is planning specifically?"

Chris shook his head and the boys started walking out of the alley. "No. I don't even think Pete himself knows what's going on. There's someone else in charge of this all that I can't pinpoint—someone that I've only heard once in my life, but never seen."

Wyatt's expression was confused.

"When that demon tried to knock me out back there, I remembered part of the past that I'd forgotten—being trapped under the rubble in the aftermath of the massacre. I heard voices when they found me. They said I'd go to Pete's quadrant, so they must have been superior to him. And then they said…" Chris gulped. "That I was their secret weapon. And they were right—through me, they would have been lead straight to you."

"Don't worry, Chris, the Halliwells can get past anybody."

"I hope so."

* * *

Before Wyatt Pushed Chris off the Bridge (lol) 

"Gone?" Piper's face paled. "Where could Wyatt have gone?" she demanded of Cole. "Where's my son?"

"Which one?" asked Phoebe.

Piper growled. "Quit this! What is wrong with you people? Chris is _dead_! He'll always _be _dead! There's nothing you can do to change that!"

"No, Piper, Chris is alive," said Paige carefully. "Maybe…maybe you just want him to be dead."

There was a stony silence in the room.

"How dare you?" Piper whispered menacingly. "How _dare _you say that to me! He was my son!"

Paige took a step back and hesitantly kept speaking. "No, I don't mean that you wanted him to be dead in the first place, but once he died, things went badly. Leo left you. Wyatt changed. Suddenly we were both single parents and Cole was the only man around to help. It wasn't easy," Paige acknowledged. "Our lives changed, and it was so easy to put the blame on Chris' death. How many mornings did you wake up feeling hopeless and say to yourself, 'I have a right to be angry or sad, because Chris is dead'? It's like a barrier now. You can protect yourself by saying it's nothing you did wrong…it's just that he's gone.

"But he isn't gone," she continued. "He's alive. And you aren't willing to accept that because even if he is, Leo is still gone and Wyatt will always grow up and you will always feel dejected."

"You can't do that to Chris, Piper," Phoebe added. "Think about it: he's been gone for years, hanging out with people he didn't even know. It was a miracle he survived, and an even bigger one that we found him—or that he found us—before it was too late."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Piper croaked. "What is this, a make-Piper-feel-like-dirt marathon? Maybe you aren't even my sisters! Maybe all of you are demons in disguise, also!"

"Piper, you would've killed us by now," Cole said with a half-hearted laugh.

Piper raised her hands threateningly. Nobody moved, shocked that her paranoia would take her this far.

Then out of the blue, Leo orbed in front of her. She screamed and everyone in the room jumped, the tension released by their surprise.

"Leo? What the _hell_?" Piper yelled. "What are you doing here, besides trying to scare the crud out of us?"

Leo looked disappointed by the angry welcome. "Piper," he said softly, "please calm down—"

"Calm down? You want me to _calm down_? It's not even noon yet, and already this day is unbelievably screwed! First this demon being Chris, then all three of them going crazy, then Wyatt leaves and you—_you _orb in here in your fancy little elder robes!" she shrieked.

Leo sighed, staring at her longingly. "You know that I didn't want to leave you, Piper. I had no choice."

She crossed her arms and looked away from him.

"I was sent down here to report a significant force the elders noticed…" Leo frowned. "I think I met him, actually, on top of the Golden Gate Bridge. Odd little kid, really—said his name was Chris."

"Ugh!" Piper exclaimed, pacing to the other side of the kitchen. "Quit it with him! I don't want to hear it!"

"So he's evil?" asked Leo, alarmed.

"No!" Cole and Paige jumped in.

"_Yes_!" Piper stressed, glaring at them.

Phoebe was dead silent, lost in her own vision.

"Pheebs?" asked Cole softly as her face seemed to twist frantically.

She held up a finger for him to wait.

_A boy trapped in the rubble, discovered by a witch and a demon with evil plots…A meeting of adults underground, discussing domination…The same boy, older, living in a mass of people and being ignored, feeling helpless…so naïve and trusting, never knowing the evils all around him…then suddenly, being given the chance to excel and be recognized—finally, a mission—he felt important…until he realized he was wrong. Several images flickered quickly in Phoebe's mind—A hard shove sending Chris hurtling to his doom, a blue blur…a man, an alley, and darkness. _

Once the vision finished, Phoebe took a moment to try to analyze everything she'd just seen. "I think I know where Chris orbed to," she said suddenly.

"Yeah, the bridge," said Leo, "I saw him, remember? So, is he evil or not?"

"No, he isn't," Phoebe said, looking at Piper apprehensively. Piper merely simmered in anger, not making any move to deny it now. "That boy you met up there on the bridge—the one the elders are noticing now—is Chris Perry Halliwell, your son."

Leo's eyes widened. "Chris…"

"Wyatt?" Cole asked when he realized the teen was standing behind him looking quite pale. "When did you orb in?"

"A second ago," he said, voice shaking slightly. "Hey, Dad." He walked over and hugged the man he hadn't seen in months, then said, "So it's true?"

Cole and Paige nodded at him, but he ignored them. He had eyes only for his parents' opinions. For a moment, he received no response. Tears welled up in Leo's eyes.

"All this time, I thought…" Leo trailed off, then looked at Wyatt seriously. "Yes, Wyatt, that's your brother. It has to be. There's no other explanation."

Wyatt turned to Piper. "Mom?" he asked softly.

Piper looked down at the floor in shame, not willing to say anything.

"I'll be right back," said Wyatt quickly.

"Where are you going?" asked Phoebe.

Wyatt gulped. "To get Chris." (A/N--this is where Wyatt goes to the alley and heals Chris...the scene I already wrote about lol. Sorry if there's any confusion. This story's ALL OVER THE PLACE. I'm so disorganized lol. Tell me if you need any clarification!)

* * *

TBC... :D :D :D

R&R Pretty please! Lol there's a funny story behind that. At swim team, our coaches are like, "Now, before the meet I don't want you guys doing anything that'll wear you out. Go for some R&R, okay?" And I nudge my friend, a fellow fanfic obsesser, and say, "He wants us to read and review? What the heck? I don't get it! EW--DO THE COACHES DO FANFICTION? AHHHH!" At which point, my friend calmly had to explain to me that before there wasa fanfiction, "R&R" stood for "rest and relaxation." Hmmm. Who knew? O.o lol


	10. Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. -sighs- No strange jokes...I am most seriously late for swim team now and I'm not even in my suit yet...

* * *

Ten Minutes

After Wyatt Pushed Chris off the Bridge and Talked to Him (lol sorry again…this story's a little off the wall :D) 

"So the Alliance is…underground?"

"Yeah," said Chris. "I know, that sounds pretty stupid. But it's concealed by some form of magic—demonic or not, I'm not sure now. The Elders obviously can't sense us. I was talking to that man on the bridge, Leo, and he said that—oh wait, he's your dad. Or, our…whatever—he said that he'd never sensed me before. The Elders have no idea what's going on down there._ I_ don't have any idea."

"Dad's at the manor now," said Wyatt.

"Why? I thought—well, by the way he talked to me, he sounded like he never went down to the manor. He was asking me lots of questions about everyone."

"Really?" Wyatt looked surprised. "He's here because of you, actually. The elders weren't sure whether to view you as a threat or not."

Chris almost laughed. "Threat. I'm sure."

Wyatt sighed. "We'd better get home," he said eventually. "It's raining pretty hard now."

Chris looked up, remembering the rain again. "It's so weird. It's like being in a shower, only it's all over the place, you know? I wonder what makes the sky do that."

Wyatt shuddered. "Once you start learning the rain cycle and all that crud in fifth grade, you won't wonder so much about it anymore."

Chris' eyes widened. "You don't think they're going to make me go all the way back to fifth grade, do you?"

"Well, did you ever learn anything down there?"

"Sure," said Chris defensively. "Only…it was basically all magic."

"Then you can go to Magic School with me instead. I quit normal school after junior high—waste of time, if you ask me—and went to Magic School instead. But let's get home, seriously. You may find the rain fascinating, but I find it downright annoying."

Wyatt took Chris's arm and they orbed to the manor.

"Wyatt! Chris! You're drenched," Phoebe laughed.

Chris gave her a dazed smile. So, this was his aunt? He had aunts—cousins, actually—and an uncle? How weird was this?

His eyes fell on Cole, who was staring at him expectantly.

"You remember now?" he asked.

Chris nodded. "Most of it."

Leo was staring at him. "So…you're Chris," said Leo, looking a bit shocked. "I can't believe it—we thought you were dead for so many years…" He drew Chris into a hug. "I'm so sorry we never thought to look for you."

"It's all right," said Chris, "how could you have known? The Alliance…the people down there—they're evil," Chris explained hurriedly. "They were planning to attack you all, then pretty much take over the world as 'revenge' for the massacre. It's sick. All my life, I thought I was living with good people that were merely hiding from the world because witches were so badly prosecuted, but what they were really doing was planning other peoples' demise. Half of them were demons."

"You could be among them," said Piper sharply, not meeting his eyes.

Her words scalded him. "Yeah, I guess I could be," he said softly.

"You're no demon," Paige assured him. "Piper's being a bitch. She'll come back to reality eventually, I promise you. Just ignore her."

Piper's eyes turned violently to her sister. "You're the ones that need a reality check. That—_thing _is not my son. I don't know what's wrong with you. That kid is evil."

Paige was going to open her mouth to protest, but Chris interrupted her. His gaze was so fierce that it forced Piper to meet his startling green eyes. "I respect your decision, then. But I'll let you know something—you know back at the club, when I said I thought I saw your two boys at the massacre?"

Piper didn't say anything, so Chris went on.

"You said to me that you hoped Chris died fast and painlessly. You wanna know what happened instead? He got smacked by a bunch of rubble in the head, knocked out and forced to live underground in fear of the rest of the world. People there didn't respect him because he wasn't powerful enough. He was just a little kid that got in the way."

Piper was still silent.

"Nobody would have even noticed down there if I had died. I had one friend—Owen—but now I don't even know if he's evil or not. Whether you want to call that fast and painless or not, you be the judge."

Chris, knowing he wouldn't get a response, turned to the rest of the group. "We need to prepare," he informed them. "I have no idea when they're going to strike, but we're going to need to fight them."

Cole was the first to snap back into action. "I'll start making potions, then," he said, climbing the stairs up to the attic.

"Do you have any idea what kind of demons we're up against?" asked Paige.

Chris shook his head. "There weren't any demons near me, and if there were, they all looked pretty normal and human."

Paige nodded. "There are plenty of human-looking demons…I'll start looking in the book."

"I'll tell the elders," said Leo.

Piper rolled her eyes and Leo hesitated. "Just go," she snapped coldly. "It's all you're good for, anyways."

Leo orbed out.

"Chris, you said something about an Owen kid…?" asked Wyatt.

"Yeah." Chris nodded. "He's about two or three years older than I am; your age, I guess." Wyatt winced. "Why? I don't think there's a way to get to him."

"I think there is. I mean, if you're almost sure that he's not evil, we'd better get him out of there before something happens, right? Give me his description and I'll orb down to him."

"No," said Chris, "I'd better do it. I think I can control orbing well enough to get down there."

"Are you sure?" asked Wyatt. "Because if you take more than five minutes down there, Paige and I are following you down there."

"Ten minutes," Chris bargained. "It may take a while to explain."

Wyatt hesitated. "Okay, ten minutes, then. But any longer than that and we're orbing down."

"Be careful," Phoebe warned him before he left.

Piper gave out what seemed like a sickly twist between a sob and a snort. Chris, not sure what to make of it, focused in on his old Alliance friend…and orbed.

Owen was sitting on one of the cots in the room they used to share with some Alliance members. Thankfully, he was alone.

"Chris?" Owen nearly choked in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought…"

"I was on a mission? Yeah, and I found some things out about the Alliance—you have to come with me. You have to get out of here."

Owen's eyes widened in fear. "No, Chris, _you _have to get out of here. They think you're dead. They want you to be dead! They're—they're evil, Chris. Pete and all the rest of them. Demons! Not witches, but demons!"

"Owen, it's okay. We'll get out of here. We made a mistake; we didn't know."

"It's okay for you to have been fooled," said Owen bitterly. "You were just a cute little four-year-old without any memory. You had an excuse. Me? I came here because I was sick of my mom always trying to train me into being a super-witch. I was seven years old at the massacre, which was old enough to understand perfectly well what I was doing. I took the hand of a demon willingly just to spite my parents."

"Owen…you didn't know they were evil."

"That's not the point. You need to get out of here, Chris, right now. If they find you in here…"

"Oh, but they already have," said a sinister voice from the hallway.

Chris turned to see Pete—and desperately wished that he'd agreed to five minutes.

* * *

Sorry the chappie was so short. I'm trying to wrap up this story pretty fast--read the A/N at the end of the story "True Power" for an explanation. I'll finish this, though, I promise. Probably before August 6...I'm going away for two weeks after that. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: Don't own nothin'.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Pete looked beyond anger. His eyes flashed maniacally, and in his hand was an athame.

"Pete, don't," Chris tried to reason calmly. Despite his newfound fear of the man, he looked him square in the face and said, "You don't have to do this."

"I do have to do this!" Pete roared. "It's been too long, Chris," he hissed, taking an exaggerated step closer to the two boys. He looked wild and out of control. "Too long. I've been a part of this for so many years now—I'm NOT going to let a silly little boy ruin it for us!"

"What you're doing isn't right!" Chris yelled back.

"What would you know about right?" Pete demanded. "What in the bloody hell would a kid struck with amnesia EVER know about right and wrong?"

Chris hardened. "Oh. So just because I can't remember everything in my first four years means that I'm stupid and illogical?"

"You needed guidance, and we offered it to you. And now look what you've done with it—thrown it all away!"

"I have done no such thing," Chris laughed. "I'll admit to what you've done for me, Pete. You know what you did? You sent me on a grand, possibly suicidal mission, and it lead me straight to my _family_."

"Your—what the hell?"

"My family, Pete. The Halliwells are my family! You were the bonehead in all of this. I remember it now—most of it, that is. I remember being a little kid in the massacre, I remember my mom and dad…" He winced at the thought of Piper. "_And that's all because of you_."

"You're lying," Pete said shakily. The knife was still firm in his hands and he took another step closer, but not nearly as bold as the first one. "There's no way you could be a Halliwell. They're powerful—you're worthless."

"That may very well be," Chris admitted, "but they're my family, nonetheless. And if you do anything—" Chris indicated the knife. "—_anything_ to hurt me, you'll have hell to pay from them."

Pete laughed. "You're great at bluffing, aren't you, Chris? I never thought you, of all people, would be capable of that."

"Chris isn't worthless." Owen stood from the bedside in rage. "You're worthless, but Chris isn't. And neither am I. We're old enough to make our own choices; we're not going to be one of your demonic slaves!"

Chris grinned at Owen. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me. I should've said that a while ago." He turned to Pete again. "And obviously Chris isn't bluffing; he just orbed in here, you buffoon. He orbed into your freaking office. Got an explanation for that?"

Pete let out an enraged animal-like cry, lunging forward. The knife went straight into Chris' stomach. Owen screamed, stepping back. Pete stared at Chris one last time, a hint of remorse in his eyes, before turning his back and fleeing the room.

"Bastard," Chris spat out, clutching his abdomen.

"Chris—we have to do something—"

"No, don't worry. Paige and Wyatt should be coming soon. They said they would if I was here more than five…" He shut his eyes closed tight from the overwhelming pain. "I mean, ten…minutes." He gasped for air, starting to sweat. "I'll be fine, Owen…just…get yourself out of here."

"I'm not leaving without you. I'll be right back—I'm going to look for help."

Chris didn't have the energy to stop him. Owen came running back in a few moments, reporting worriedly, "There's no one here. Everyone's gone."

"Aw, damn…" Chris cursed. "The Halliwells." And watching the blood form into a pool on the ground beneath him, he had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to see tomorrow.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Back at the Manor 

The chaos was catastrophic.

Just a moment ago, everything had been peaceful. Well, actually, what with Piper infuriated and Chris in danger getting Owen, it was far from peaceful—but plenty peaceful compared to right now.

Wyatt, thankfully, had a shield; he and Paige were underneath that. Paige was orbing other weapons from demons and telekinetically stabbing them while Wyatt sent out energy balls through their barrier. Piper was several yards away, blowing demons up right and left.

Phoebe and Cole, having heard the noise, came running down themselves.

"Where are Mel and Annie?" Paige screamed over the deafening noise.

"Magic School," Cole yelled back, already starting to fight demons with his levitating wife. "We opened the portal."

The Charmed Ones clearly had the upper hand; though the demons were popping up just as fast as they were being vanquished, at least they were all pretty pathetic. The occasional threat came up, but in the end either Piper and Wyatt teamed together to blow it up or Cole sent two fireballs at it simultaneously.

Minutes were ticking by, though they seemed like hours. Something nagged at Wyatt's mind.

"Aunt Paige?" he shouted. "Where's Chris?"

She stopped in the middle of an orb and let the demon's attacks bounce off the shield. "Oh my god, how long has it been?"

"Longer than ten minutes," Wyatt gulped, turning pale. "What happened to him?"

Paige began fighting the demons relentlessly, fueled by a new mission: stop the demons, then get to Chris. Cole and Phoebe and Wyatt seemed to do the same, but Paige couldn't see Piper from behind her so she didn't know if she was even aware of the conflict they faced.

Wyatt's panic began to surface. He'd finally found his brother after ten miserable years of thinking he was dead—what would happen if he died _again_? Could they even handle it?

No, they wouldn't be able to—not a second time around.

Finally, the last demon showed up. He looked oddly human, and he held a bloodstained knife in his hands. Everyone ceased attacks in horror, looking around the room at each other, but they couldn't figure out who'd been stabbed. They let out a sigh of relief.

"You can kill me," the man said crazily, "but it will do you no good." He began laughing maniacally, throwing back his head. "You can kill me, yes, but the damage is already done. There are more of us…there always will be." His laughter stopped abruptly. "Besides, you're too late. He's probably dead by now."

He held up the knife and smirked.

"NO!" Wyatt screamed, sending a massive energy ball at him.

The man was dead before he hit the ground.

"Chris!" Wyatt cried. "Paige, we have to…"

Paige grabbed his hand, way ahead of him, and orbed down to where she sensed Chris.

In their wake, Piper's eyes filled with tears. "What did that bastard do to him?" she asked softly, shaking.

Phoebe walked over to her and put a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder. "He'll be alright, Piper, I'm sure."

"But what if he isn't?" Piper sobbed. "What if I don't get to say I'm sorry?"

"Then he'll forgive you anyways," Cole said, "because that's just the kind of kid Chris is."

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Chris realized his vision was slipping. He felt like someone was sucking the oxygen out of the room and trying to suffocate him—somewhere, it seemed like miles away, Owen was shaking him, trying desperately to keep him conscious.

But all Chris wanted to do was fall into the blissful darkness, a place where he could feel no pain. Why was Owen denying him the peace he longed for?

"Chris, c'mon…stay with me here. I'm sure someone will be here any minute."

"Bet me?" Chris asked weakly. It hurt tremendously to speak. His whole world seemed to revolve around the ceaseless pain from the stab wound.

"Yeah, I'll bet you…a million dollars, I'll bet you."

Chris nodded. "I'm gonna die."

"No—no you're not!" Owen yelled, shaking him again. "Chris, please—don't die. We need you. I need you, the Halliwells need you…you can't die…"

"I'm sorry," Chris whispered, a tear falling down his cheek.

"No…"

"Tell them…that I said good-bye." The words pierced Chris with pain unimaginable, but he knew it was his last chance. "And that…I love them. And…and thank you for everything, Owen."

"Chris, don't talk like that," Owen begged.

But Owen was powerless to do anything as he watched his best and only friend close his eyes, take in a last shuddering breath, and cease to exist.

A woman and a boy about his age orbed in a second later.

"You're too late…"

* * *

TBC...Ooooh, how I DO relish these moments...I'm thinking maybe two more chappies, possibly three, and then it'll be finished.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed, but I do own a lot of IMPATIENCE. Evil people are bothering me on IM. It's disturbing. I WISH THEY'D GO BYE-BYE. They're school peoples...eeeeeesh how they got my sn is BEYOND me...they aren't particularly friendly lol. I shall survive, however, just as soon as a buy a pony and ride away to Anarctica and live with the penguins. Hey, anyone else see March of the Penguins?I saw it with my BOYFRIEND (man, do I relish that word...I FINALLY HAVE A BF, EVERYONE...) on our second date (the first one was at the pool with his lil bro and parents...the second, the movie, was with my whole family...they won't leave us alone, but we don't really mind because we're way too young to do anything that they'd disapprove of lol!). It wasa cute movie...but SAD, too...-tears-. We're both so dorky and kind of like misfits in school, so it's a perfect match. Except I'm smart and goofy and he's REALLY REALLY smart and sorta serious, lol. I have no idea what we see in each other, BUT IT'S FUN TO BE WITH HIM! lol. It's our first time ever dating anyone for both of us, so he does stuff that he sees in movies, like holds my hand at the "scary" parts of the G-rated movie (Yeah. G-rated. How frightening lol.) and holds open doors for me lol. He's soooo sweeeeeeeet. I heart him. lol. I'm shutting up now. On with the story!

* * *

So. Not. Cool.

Chris watched his body stay completely still beneath him as he—oh, great, was this convenient or what?—floated up above it. What the hell did this mean? Was he officially dead now?

Well, that had certainly been unexpected. Sure, he'd told Owen to tell the Halliwells all that stuff, but he was still hoping that there was still some way he'd live. After all that had happened, he'd felt pretty invincible. The massacre? Aw, no biggie. Meeting your family after ten years, overcoming amnesia, falling off a bridge, being assaulted by a demon, finding out that everything you knew was a lie and your mother refusing to believe you're real? Been there, done that.

And now a stupid _stab wound _had killed him?

"Athame," Owen explained, his face looking drained and empty. "I'm pretty sure it was poisoned.

Now, maybe THAT made more sense to Chris. But even so, it was pretty unbelievable and weird looking at your own body. To some degree, this is what he thought would happened when you died, but he thought he'd be frightened. He'd always feared death. So why wasn't he afraid now? Everything was so…peaceful and serene.

He even stayed in that mind set when he saw Paige start crying and Wyatt shaking uncontrollably. He felt drugged—that seemed like the best word for it. There was no panic, no desperation like there was every waking moment when he was alive. He just sort of…floated there. Staring.

A thought occurred to him: _Am I going to be a freaking ghost and hang around here forever? Can they even see me?_

"Paige? Wyatt? Owen?"

Apparently they couldn't.

"Wonderful." Chris kicked the bed. His foot went through it and he groaned. "Just _peachy._"

"Don't worry."

Chris whipped around.

"Hey, you're dead, too," he said flatly to the stranger floating next to him.

The stranger laughed. Chris recognized that laugh immediately as his own. "You're… are you…?"

"The same person as you are?" The other boy, in his early twenties, raised his eyebrows. "Yes and no. See, I came from another timeline. In my timeline, there was a massacre and it caused Wyatt to turn evil out of nowhere. There never was an Alliance, actually, because most demons were slaughtered right with the witches. The remaining ones were under Wyatt's control. He started this all at the age of fourteen."

"My age now," Chris commented.

His older self nodded. Chris couldn't even imagine trying to achieve world domination when you were barely a teenager.

"Wyatt was so evil that the world became unbearable. San Francisco was destroyed; there were no people busily roaming the streets, no seagulls at the bay, not even a beautiful sunrise anymore. Nobody was safe. And I…I went back in time, before I—you—were born. Wyatt was only a baby, and mom wasn't even pregnant with…us…yet."

"You screwed with the timeline?" Chris asked his counterpart incredulously.

"By that time, there was no other option. Mel and Annie? They were dead. The Charmed Ones? Kapow. It only took one blow to knock out half the elders and whitelighters, too."

"So you changed the timeline," Chris repeated numbly.

"Yes. While I was there, I found out that it wasn't the massacre that turned Wyatt. The day we were born, a horrible, twisted man tried to kill Wyatt. Wyatt, being the powerful being he'll always be, evaded him in my timeline, but in your timeline I managed to send the alert to where Wyatt was. Wyatt was spared. But it came at a price."

"Our life," Chris figured out.

"That's right. Our lives had to be taken if Wyatt were to ever become good."

"But…but…" Chris stared down at his brother, clearly upset and angry, trying in vain to try to bring his body back to life. "How will this make him good? How will my dying change him?"

"I'm getting to that. See, I died because the man that tried to kill Wyatt—Gideon was his name—stabbed me because I stood in his way. There was no way to heal the wound he caused unless he healed it himself." His counterpart's eyes clouded. "I sometimes wonder, you know, now that I'm dead, if he really did intend to come back for me after he stabbed me. He thought that killing Wyatt was right and good, only because he knew through me coming back that one day Wyatt would abuse his power. What he couldn't accept, though, was that he was the cause of it. I don't think he meant to kill me. He didn't want to."

"But he did."

"Yes, he did. And then I didn't get to go back to the future where I wanted to go after it was fixed. I died, and at the same moment I died, you were brought to life. The next Chris. The new generation."

"But…how the hell is this any better?" Chris demanded. "The massacre still happened and now there's some creepy Alliance. How does that make anything better?"

"The Alliance, my friend, is dead and gone. Only the original leader remains, too weak and without any cronies left to do anything threatening."

"What…what do you mean?"

"The Charmed Ones and Wyatt and Cole just vanquished pretty much all of them down at the manor while you were…dying. That's why they were too late."

"But obviously YOU knew what was going to happen," Chris said accusatorily.

"Well, duh. How could I not know? I'm you. I've been waiting for you to die for, like, fourteen years," he said.

"You're sick," Chris shot back.

"No, I'm not sick. I've been waiting because I have another mission for you. You may be dead, but you're not exactly finished here."

"Oh yeah? What can I do now that I'm _dead_, hm?"

His counterpart smirked. "Lots of things. I'll show you why, this time, Wyatt's not going to turn evil."

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Wyatt and Paige stood in shocked silence for a minute or so. Wyatt's shoulders were shaking and Paige was crying quietly behind him.

Wyatt finally burst, "He's not dead. He can't be."

Owen closed his eyes to stop the flow of tears. "I'm sorry. He's dead…I watched it happen. You must be his brother."

Wyatt nodded, gulping back a sob, and got down to his knees, desperately trying to heal his brother. "He can't be dead. He lived last time, didn't he? He was alive for ten years! He can't be…dead…"

Paige softly put a hand on his shoulder. "Wyatt," she said in a hushed, horror-filled voice, "He's dead. You've got to let him go."

"No!" Wyatt cried. "Not…until…I know…for sure…"

"What do you mean?" asked Paige. "Wyatt, you've got to stop. He's dead. We…have to go home—they'll be worried."

Wyatt shook his head, his blonde hair blocking his pained expression. "How do I know that he's not really dead? How do we know for sure? I'm not going to leave him again, Aunt Paige. I'm not going to leave him here!"

"Wyatt…_let him go. _If he died…then it was his time."

"No! No, it wasn't. He was too young for it to be his time. It's not fair."

Owen sighed, shuddering from his tears. "Life isn't fair to anybody."

Wyatt stepped away from Chris' body, stumbling a bit. "I just…I just feel like he isn't really gone. He wasn't even here for a day, really, but it seems like it was a lifetime. I can't believe…after all this time…he's really…" He swallowed, and said painfully, "dead."

Paige moved her hand off Wyatt's shoulder and faced Owen. "You need a place to stay, don't you?" she said. Without waiting for an answer, she commanded, "Come with us. You're not safe here. For all we know, there are still Alliance members out there that might come looking for you."

"I'm not worth anything to them," Owen said bitterly. He softened. "But…thank you. It means a lot to me."

"Wyatt, you orb Owen home. I'll…take Chris."

Wyatt nodded, taking a deep breath and orbing himself and Owen back to the manor.

"Where's Chris?" Cole badgered him. "Who's that?"

"I'm Owen." A fresh bout of tears formed in Owen's eyes and he looked at the ground. "Chris' friend."

"You're the one he went to bring back here, aren't you?" asked Phoebe. "Where are Chris and Paige? What happened? Why…why are you two…?"

"Oh my God," said Piper, "are they…?"

Wyatt looked at Piper dead in the face. "Chris is dead, Mom. Your son is really dead this time. Are you happy now?" He retreated up the stairs, indicating Owen to follow. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle seeing Chris' body again. It was too much for him.

"No," Piper said, her voice barely a whisper. "No…he can't be dead."

Paige orbed in and Piper clutched the marble counter for support, her knuckles turning white. Cole stared at his nephew's body with wide eyes, disbelievingly. Phoebe turned abnormally pale.

Paige set the blood-covered body on the couch and announced shakily, "He's dead."

Piper was the first to make a noise, letting out a long wail of remorse.

* * *

You know what's really weird? I was all, "Man, this story's getting blah." So I killed off Chris for variety and then I'm all -sighs- "This means I have to bring him back now. Damn." So I sat at the computer for five seconds all frustrated and then I started typing and...voila. This chappie. I dunno how it happens, lol, but it's fun to post!


End file.
